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Title: Letters of Asa Gray; Vol. 2

Author: Asa Gray

Editor: Jane Loring Gray

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS OF
ASA GRAY; VOL. 2 ***

LETTERS OF ASA GRAY
EDITED BY
JANE LORING GRAY
IN TWO VOLUMES

VOL. II.

BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
The Riverside Press, Cambridge
1894

Copyright, 1893,
By JANE LORING GRAY.

All rights reserved.

CONTENTS.
PAGE
V. Second Journey in Europe.—Correspondence. 1830-1859 369
VI. Letters to Darwin and Others. 1800-1868 454
VII. Travel in Europe and America. 1808-1880 565
VIII. Final Journeys and Work. 1880-1888 701
Appendix
Index

Note on the The frontispiece portrait of Dr. Gray is a
Illustrations.
photogravure from a photograph taken in 1880. The plate of Dr. Gray in his
study, facing page 529, is from a photograph taken in 1879. The view of the
present Range of Buildings in the Botanic Garden, facing page 614, is from
a photograph taken for this work.

LETTERS OF ASA GRAY.

CHAPTER V.

SECOND JOURNEY IN EUROPE.—CORRESPONDENCE.

1850-1859.

Dr. Gray sailed for England with Mrs. Gray in a sailing packet June 11, 1850.
The steamers made regular trips, but the fine packets were still running, and
it was thought desirable to try the longer voyage for Mrs. Gray’s health.
Dr. Gray renewed acquaintance with his old friends, and made many
new ones, meeting at his friend Mr. Ward’s, where they first stayed, many
of the younger men, Henfrey, Forbes, etc., who had become known in
science since his former visit in 1839.

TO JOHN TORREY.

Ghent, Belgium, July 16, 1850.
I surely meant that you should have heard of us long ere this. But there
seemed not to be a moment of time during the fortnight we spent in
England; Mr. Ward kept us so busy with every sort of engagement and
sight-seeing that J. could enjoy. I meant to have written at Dover last
evening; but it was not convenient, so now that we are for the first night in a
strange country (which England is not) I must tell you, what I trust you
have learned from Carey (to whom I had occasion to write hurriedly, last
mail), that we had a very pleasant voyage of seventeen and a half days and
came near making it in fourteen, as we made land early on the morning of
the twelfth day out, no storms, but gentle favoring breezes till we made the
Irish coast; and then, to our disappointment, we had head winds to beat
against all the way up to Holyhead, and reached Liverpool Saturday
morning....
On Monday we left Liverpool, which has vastly improved since you saw
it; stopping at Coventry and turning off to Leamington to see, at
Darlington’s desire, the descendants of old Peter Collinson,[1] and deliver
some books and letters from him, which I did. Mrs. Collinson was ill with a

severe fall, but her daughter received the things I brought, and showed me a
portrait of Peter. Then Mrs. Gray and I made an excursion to Warwick
Castle, the fine ruins of Kenilworth, and Stoneleigh Abbey, driving through
six or seven miles of fine park. The next day on to London, to Ward, who
had insisted on our visiting him. He lives three and a half miles out of
London, in a pleasant and quiet suburban house; his son being established
in Wellclose Square.
Boott I saw the same evening I arrived, and two days later, with J., but
not later. He has been quite sick with an influenza, and a slight but not
altogether pleasant inflammation of the lungs.
To Hooker I went at once also, and got your kind letter there, and saw
Kew. Hooker is quite well; but Lady H. is very poorly.... She inquired most
particularly and affectionately after yourself, and asked about all your
family....
On Monday I made another visit to Kew Gardens, (a grand affair) to
show the lions of the place to four or five young Americans I knew, one of
them young Brace,[2] J.’s cousin, who is making with two friends a pleasant
and profitable pedestrian excursion in England.[3] I cannot begin to tell you
the half we have done and seen in England, but we were most busy:
Saturday, conversazione of Royal Botanical Society in Regent’s Park.
Wednesday, excursion with Linnæan Club to Hertford; saw a great Pinetum,
600 species of Coniferæ, etc., and the Panshanger Oak. (I wrote Carey a
few words of this.) Thursday, a most pleasant day with Hooker. Miss
Hooker looks quite well; all send their love to you, all most kind and sweet
to us. Hooker has altered little, but looks older. Brown looks older perhaps,
but decidedly stronger, is as healthy as possible and very lively. In talking
with him and showing him about it he gave up about Krameria, and said I
must be right. He formerly unequivocally referred it to Polygalaceæ.
Bennett is large and fat. I fear he does not work hard enough.
Yesterday we came down to Dover early in the afternoon (a striking
place), and embarked late in the evening on steamer for Ostend, which we
reached early this morning; came right on to Bruges, which listless and very
curious old-world town, and its curiosities, we have all day been exploring,
till six o’clock, when we came on twenty-eight miles further by railway to
the famous and more lively town of Ghent,—where I have been running
about till the dusk arrived, and must now to bed, as we have to finish Ghent

to-morrow before dinner, and go on to Antwerp afterwards, thence to
Cologne. I think we shall cut Brussels.
At Ghent saw the Belfry and the strange old Town Hall.... I went to the
Botanic Garden (did not find Professor Kickx),—hardly as large as ours at
Cambridge, and by no means so rich or half so well kept, though said to be
the best in Belgium; explored the university library, and strolled through the
streets and along the canals....
Antwerp.—Imagine us settled comfortably at Hotel du Parc, Wednesday
evening, overlooking the Place Verte, our windows commanding a near and
most advantageous view of the finest cathedral in Belgium, with light
enough still to see pretty well against the sky the graceful outlines and
much of the light tracery and Gothic work of this gem of a steeple, one of
the loftiest in the world (403 feet, 7 inches) and probably unsurpassed by
any for lightness, grace, and the elaborateness of the carved work.
Napoleon compared it to Mechlin lace. And such sweet chimes, every
fifteen minutes! The chime at the beginning of the hour still rings in our
ears. We have never tired of listening to it....
Bonn, July 22.
We drove through the city (Cologne) to the station of the Bonn railroad.
But on the way the driver, of his own motion, stopped at the door of the
cathedral. Finding that we had time enough to take a good look before the
train left, we could not resist, and saw this wonder and masterpiece of true
Gothic architecture; which by the united efforts of most North German
powers is going on toward completion, in the style and plan on which it was
commenced seven hundred or eight hundred years ago, and in which the
choir was finished, and the transepts and nave commenced. It is most grand;
the grandest thing we ever saw, though the nave bears only a temporary
roof, at thirty or forty feet less than the full height. The ancient stained glass
comes fully up to one’s expectation. I have never seen the like.
We went up to Poppelsdorf; such charming and picturesque view of the
Siebengebirge (seven mountains) and the Godesberg, etc., from the
professor’s windows and the Botanic Garden; the museums rich and
curious, and parts of the old château in which they are (now surrendered to
the university) not less so. The botanical professors, Treviranus[4] and Dr.
Roemer, very kind; some collections to be made ready here for me to
examine when we come back, so that I must then spend a day here....

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

Geneva, August 16, 1850.
We went up the Rhine to Coblenz, Bingen, and Mayence; thence to
Frankfort. By some mistake in the post office in giving me the address, your
letter to Dr. Fresenius[5] I took to a law-doctor Fresenius, who was away in
Switzerland. So I gave up all hopes of seeing him, and we fell to seeing the
sights by ourselves, when, a few hours before we had arranged to go to
Heidelberg, the true Dr. Fresenius came in. We may see him again on our
way back. We went to Heidelberg, for an hour or two only....
It is now the 20th,—time passed fast. I work to-day in herbariums De
Candolle and Boissier, and to-morrow morning we go to Freiburg and
Berne and the Bernese Oberland. We cannot be back now in England so
early as we expected; but still hope to be there by the 20th September....
Thursday morning, after an early breakfast, went on by railroad to Kehl;
left our luggage and took a carriage over the bridge of boats, across the
lines of the French republic (?) into Strasburg. Saw Schimper;[6] then we
went to the cathedral, viewed the grand front of this imposing structure, and
the wonderful spire, the tallest in the world; were much struck with the
grandeur of the interior, wholly lighted by stained glass, the greater part of
it 400 or 500 years old. After visiting the Museum of Natural History, and
arranging with Schimper to meet him in Switzerland, where he is to pass
with his wife (a Swiss lady) a long vacation, we took our carriage and
returned to the Baden side of the river, and came on to Freiburg (in the
Breisgau) that evening, reaching it in the rain....
Professor Braun,[7] the brother of the first Mrs. Agassiz, was very kind to
us. He is a very interesting man, of charming manners; his wife very sweet
and charming, his children most engaging. Saturday afternoon we took a
carriage, and with Professor Braun rode up a beautiful valley to the
Höllenthal (French, Vallée d’Enfer), a rocky and wooded gorge of very
striking scenery; wild and majestic, rather than terrible, as its name
imports....
In the afternoon visited the cathedral, one of the finest and oldest in
Europe, that is well preserved. Here nearly every part, and all the stained
glass, of a most curious kind, is perfectly preserved; and the spire, though
not so high as that of Strasburg, is as elaborate and light,—as it were of
woven stone thread,—and even more beautiful....

Tuesday we rode from Bâle to Bienne (fifty-six miles) in a diligence,
from eight A.M. to five P.M., through the Münster Thal, the grandest and most
picturesque scenery of the Jura.
Wednesday, a ride of three hours along lakes of Bienne and Neuchâtel
brought us to Neuchâtel at eleven o’clock A.M. ... Professor Godet,[8] who
received me most cordially, took me (with Mr. Coulon) up the Chaumont,
2,500 feet; but the Alps were obscured by clouds, at least the higher Alps,
and we had no fine view of them; otherwise the view was very fine. We
returned by the great boulder Pierre à Bot. All asked after Agassiz with
much interest. Excursions are planned for us when we return....

Dr. Gray enjoyed the visit to Geneva, where he renewed his friendship
with MM. Alphonse De Candolle and Boissier, accomplishing some useful
work, and having pleasant social meetings and excursions. He went to
Chamouni and the Bernese Oberland; then to Munich, especially to meet
again Martius, with whom he had been in constant correspondence, and
who made the journey from Tyrol to greet his old friend. Their few days
together were greatly enjoyed.
He returned to England, going down the Neckar by steamboat to
Heidelberg, then down the Rhine, and through Holland, where he saw
Miquel[9] in Amsterdam, rambling with him on a fête-day through the
streets at evening, enjoying the queer sights; went to Leyden, meeting De
Vriese,[10] with whom was R. Brown (then staying in Leyden for a few
days), and seeing the Botanic Garden, one of the oldest in Europe, and well
known to Linnæus. Blume[11] he missed, but he saw Siebold’s[12] collection
of Japanese curios, then most rare. He took steamer from Rotterdam to
London, and after a few days went down to Mr. Bentham’s, in
Herefordshire.
Here were spent two months of very hard work with Mr. Bentham, who
most kindly went over with him the plants of the United States Exploring
Expedition, which had been brought over the Atlantic for the purpose.
Pontrilas is in a pretty, hilly country on the border of Wales, with many
old churches, almost of Saxon time, in the neighborhood, to give interest to
walks, and very interesting, agreeable neighbors for a day or two’s visiting,
among them the authoress, Mrs. Archer Clive, who was very kind.

He left Pontrilas early in December to make a visit, at Dublin, to his
friend Professor Harvey, to stay in the family of Mr. and Mrs. Todhunter,
Dr. Harvey’s sister. Going on board the steamer at ten in the evening, he
met with the severe accident of which he gives an account in his letters. Dr.
Harvey came from Dublin to help in nursing him. His vigor and elasticity
helped him to a speedy recovery, but it increased a general tendency to
stoop, and he was never so erect afterwards.
He was able to get to Kew the last of December, and spent the winter in
hard work in Sir William Hooker’s herbarium, which was then in his house
at West Park.

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

Cumberland Place, Kew, December 28, 1850.
Your kind favor of December 6th, forwarded to me by Bentham, to
Dublin, would have been sooner acknowledged, but that it found me an
invalid. On our way from Hereford to Dublin I had just gone on board a
steamer at Holyhead, early in the evening; had left Mrs. Gray in the ladies’
cabin, when, coming on deck again, I stepped over an open hatchway which
had been left for the moment very carelessly unguarded and unlighted. I fell
full eighteen feet, they say, to the bottom of the hold, striking partly on my
right hand and the side of my right leg, bruising and straining both, but
principally on my right side against a timber projecting from the floor,
fracturing two of my ribs. It is truly wonderful that I was not more seriously
and permanently injured. I was taken on shore at once and had good
medical attendance. I recovered so rapidly that in a week I was comfortably
taken across to Dublin, where I was kindly cared for by good friends; in two
weeks more I left for London, able to walk without difficulty; and to-day,
just four weeks after the accident, I have begun to work at plants again, in
Sir William Hooker’s herbarium. But my side is still tender, and my
strength is not great.
Having said thus much of my bodily condition, let me no longer delay to
thank you heartily for the very unexpected compliment that you have
caused to be paid me, and to ask you to convey, in fitting terms, my grateful
acknowledgments to the Société de Physique et d’Histoire Naturelle, for the
honor they have conferred upon me in choosing me as one of their
corresponding members. I was not aware that I had rendered any particular

services to your society, but I shall be very glad to do so if any opportunity
offers. Although, generally, I am far from coveting compliments of this
kind, I assure you I am much pleased to be thus associated with several
valued personal friends, my contemporaries, and with such highly honored
names of the past generation....
We had eight weeks of most pleasant and profitable labor at Pontrilas,
and Mr. Bentham has rendered me invaluable assistance.
Mrs. Gray joins me in the expression of kind remembrances and regard
to Madame De Candolle and yourself.
Believe me to remain, ever most sincerely yours,
Asa Gray.

Since Dr. Gray was so near Sir William, and working in the herbarium
almost every day, there was much meeting of old friends, and of many of
the men distinguished in botany. Robert Brown, with his keen observation
and dry wit, he saw constantly at the British Museum, Dr. Wallich,[13] Mr.
Miers and many others. There was some social visiting in London and the
neighborhood. Mr. Abbott Lawrence was then American minister in
London, and he and Mrs. Lawrence were very kind and attentive, giving
him a chance to see at an evening reception some of the great men of the
London world: the Duke of Wellington, Lady Morgan, Whewell the Master
of Trinity, Lord Boughton, Lord Gough, and many others.
It was the year of the first great World’s Exhibition, and the building was
then considered very wonderful. Through the kindness of Professor Lindley
he was enabled to see it before it was completed.
There was a very charming visit to Oxford in March, where Dr. Gray
made most delightful acquaintances. He there first met Dean Church, then a
fellow of Oriel, who had him to dine. He also dined with Mr. Congreve[14]
at Wadham; met Maskeleyne, who showed him “some fine talbotypes,
which are a sort of daguerreotype on paper, and have a beautiful effect for
landscapes and buildings.” Breakfasted with Mr. Burgon and Mr. Church, at
Oriel, in Dr. Pusey’s old rooms, and met Mr. Burgon again at dinner, when
dining in the “Common Room,” at a dinner given him by Mr. Church, and
also Buckle and Sclater. Dr. Jacobson, then Regius professor of divinity,
afterwards Bishop of Chester, and Mrs. Jacobson, were very kind. Dr.
Daubeny was then professor of botany at Oxford, and there were some

plants to look at in the small herbarium kept in the little Botanic Garden in
an old greenhouse. The days were crowded with interesting sight-seeing
and in meeting agreeable people.
From Oxford, Dr. Gray went to Cambridge, where he met again a
traveling acquaintance made on the passage from Rotterdam, Dr.
Thompson, then Greek tutor, later Master of Trinity, who was very kind in
doing the honors of Trinity, King’s Chapel, etc. At his rooms, Dr. Gray met
Professor Challis and other Cambridge men. The grounds about the colleges
were then at their greatest beauty, the banks of the Cam yellow with
primroses, the whole setting off the beautiful bridges and stately buildings.
Another traveling acquaintance met in the street, recalling an experience on
the Furca, asked Dr. Gray to dine with him at Caius College, saying his
name was Mackenzie. He was Bishop Mackenzie, who died in south Africa.
On returning to Kew, Dr. Gray found Dr. Joseph Hooker, just back from
his journey to the Himalayas and Thibet. Dr. Thompson[15] was also there,
just home from India, where he had been imprisoned with Lady Sale and
others, twenty of them in one small room, during the trouble in Afghanistan.
And one day came an invitation to lunch from the Hookers’, “to meet Mr.
Darwin, who is coming to meet Dr. Hooker; is distinguished as a
naturalist.” “Mr. Darwin was a lively, agreeable person” [Mrs. Gray’s
journal].

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

5 Cumberland Place, Kew, April 14, 1851.
For myself I am glad that I am perfectly recovered from the effects of
my accident, and am as active as ever. I have passed a very pleasant winter,
and have prosecuted my studies to great advantage, though there still
remains, alas! more for me to do than I can hope to accomplish in the time
that is still left for me. Your letter was just in time to reach me here; for we
had just decided to go to Paris early next week; to remain there until the 1st
of June, at least. The only drawback is that we thereby lose the society of
Mr. and Mrs. Bentham, who mean to come to London early next month....
Sir William Hooker is not yet well, though better than he was last winter.
I have presented your kind messages, for which he sends best thanks, and is
rejoiced to hear of your recovery. Sir William is truly a noble man; the more
intimately you know him the more strongly attached to him you become....

I had thought it quite likely that we might pass through Geneva again
this summer; but that is not now possible. The sea, however, is not so broad
as formerly. Believe me to remain,
Very faithfully and affectionately yours,
Asa Gray.

In April Dr. and Mrs. Gray went to Paris, where he worked busily
through the mornings at the Jardin des Plantes, taking the afternoon for his
sight-seeing. He met again his old friends, Jussieu, Decaisne, Gay, etc., and
made the acquaintance of M. and Mme. Vilmorin, both most charming and
interesting people; the former distinguished as a horticulturist, and both
making investigations for many years on the varieties of strawberries, for
which Mme. V. made all the drawings. Two separate days were passed at
Verrières, their country home, an old villa belonging formerly to the
Duchesse de la Vallière. And here to meet him came old Michaux[16] the
younger, then eighty-one, who had walked from his home (fifteen leagues),
for the pleasure of seeing Dr. Gray. And it was at Dr. Gray’s request that
both Michaux and Jussieu sat for their daguerreotypes for him, the only
satisfactory likenesses of either. Mr. François Delessert[17] extended
pleasant hospitalities, and Mr. Webb was very kind and cordial.
It was during the time of the Republic, Louis Napoleon, president, and
there were some grand fêtes in May, in honor of the Republic, at which the
officers of the government were conspicuously absent.
Dr. Gray returned to Kew in June to continue his work, broken only by
some days in London.

TO GEORGE BENTHAM.

Paris, April 30, 1851.
Dear Bentham,—I cannot give your message to Weddell, for he is on his
way to the Peruvian cinchona forests, to remain a year,—I suppose on a
commission from the manufacturers of quinine. Jussieu still suffers with
some affection of the stomach, but is much better than last winter. Decaisne
is quite well, but is occupied with the Culture, and is little in the herbarium,
where Spach, Tulasne,[18] Naudin,[19] and Trécul[20] are in charge, under
Brongniart and Jussieu. Webb is well, and so is Gay, who is quite happy,

living on his half pay, which the Republic has secured to him, with his
rooms free of rent, and some savings from his former income. I have not
seen Gaudichaud yet; but he has offered to come and show me his
Sandwich Island collections, etc., of which he has issued some plates, in
“La Voyage de la Bonite,” but no text has appeared, and none seems likely
to appear.
I gave to Dr. Alexander the list and notes on Fendler’s Chagres plants.
He will hand it to you when he sees you in London.

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

Paris, May 6, 1851.
Robert Brown told me that Link would be succeeded in his excellent and
lucrative professorship either by Grisebach[21] or by our excellent friend
Braun. Since I have been here, a young man from Berlin says that the
choice has fallen on Braun,—to my great joy, for I love Braun very much. I
have given Lowell, who leaves Paris to-day, and will be in Germany in June
and July, a letter to Braun, addressed to Giessen or Berlin.
Prince Paul’s sensitive branches of Mimosa catching unwary travelers is
rich!

TO ——.

Wednesday morning, June 11.
Settled down to usual Kew routine; glad enough to get back to quiet and
superlative neatness; to less elegance than our Parisian quarters, but
decidedly more comfort. The only thing that distresses us is, that we cannot
translate dear Mrs. Crook bodily to Cambridge, Massachusetts. Sure we
would if she were younger; but the dear old creature will now erelong be
translated to a far better land.... Unpacked (which in interminableness is
only second to packing up) and went down to the Hookers’....
Friday, after writing and dispatching letters home, we went up to
London, shopped, etc., in the City; streets nasty (the English word is very
appropriate; no wonder they always use it), and such a contrast to beautiful
and gay Paris, which is vastly more convenient and agreeable for
shopping....

Saturday, ... a little stroll in the Gardens, which are looking beautifully,
the trees loaded with rich foliage, and the great masses of Rhododendrons
in blossom.
In the evening went with Dr. Hooker up to the last soirée of Lord Rosse,
the president of the Royal Society; too late to see Prince Albert, who came
and went early; saw the usual dons. Sir Charles Lyell asked if I had stayed
abroad all the time since last year, or had just come over afresh!...
Wednesday, we were off early in the morning, to make our first visit to
the Great Exhibition. We went up to town by railroad as usual; walked over
Waterloo bridge, and having reached the Strand, had the satisfaction of
seeing nine omnibuses pass westward, all full. Despairing of all hope of
getting into an omnibus, we were just turning to look for a cab, when a
well-dressed and respectable woman, who had been making similar
unsuccessful attempts, rushed up to us, exclaiming, “Oh! are you going to
the Exhibition? Will you not take a cab with me? I have been trying for an
omnibus in vain this half hour, and I have made an appointment with some
friends there at half past ten.” We agreed at once to this reasonable and very
convenient proposition, and we shared the expense accordingly, with many
expressions of thanks on the lady’s part. Before we had reached within half
a mile of the Crystal Palace we were obliged to fall into dense line, with a
close double file of cabs, carriages, dog-carts, and other “vehicular
conveyances,” all wending their way thither, a similar file of empty
carriages returning on the other side of the street; the sidewalks as well as
the roads inside the park all crowded with pedestrians. Early as we were, a
vast number of people were already there, but scattered through the vast
interior, they scarcely made a crowd, until midday, when the more attractive
parts of the structure, the principal streets and squares, so to say, were
thronged.
As to what we saw, is it not written at length in the great Official
Catalogue (as far as that ponderous document is yet published), besides the
Abridged Catalogue, in itself quite a sizable book, which we mean to bring
home, with the Synopsis, and other things, quite a library, and I dare say
you have heard and read quite enough about it. I doubt whether you have
seen the excellent and spirited articles in the “Times,” beginning long
before the building was finished, which give a most admirable and lively
account of everything.

The general impression of the interior was not quite so imposing, did not
give such an idea of the vastness, as when we saw it in April, less full, and
the long spaces unbroken.
On our way down the nave, we stopped for a moment to see the Koh-i-
noor, but the Mountain of Light looked to us little brighter than a piece of
cut-glass. It does not come up to the general expectation. Manage it as they
will, it does not shine at all wonderfully, and the people got it into their
heads that the authorities were shamming them with a glass imitation
instead of the veritable Koh-i-noor; an idea well expressed in “Punch,” who
called it “the knave of diamonds.” We determined to show our patriotism by
going first of all carefully through the American department, and quite a
trial to one’s patriotism it is, a great space, very scantily filled with an ill-
assorted, incongruous collection (although they have given up to Russia and
France about one quarter of the space that Mr. Lawrence asked for and
insisted upon having): one long shelf displayed only half a dozen wooden
pails; another side was decorated with a miserable collection of cast-off
specimens of autumn-leaves, and below with a case containing five or six
dozen bottles of prepared magnesia, all just alike, flanked at the sides with a
similar collection of Old Jacob Townsend’s Sarsaparilla, surmounted by a
portrait of the illustrious inventor. The strength of the nation has gone to
daguerreotypes, of which there are about two thousand very good
specimens of the art, it must be said, far better than they can produce in
England. The same may be said of many things, creditable in themselves,
but of which they have filled up their space, or attempted to fill it, with an
enormous number of specimens, where one or two would suffice. But
wherever anything is quite poor and commonplace, the exhibitor is sure to
make it up in brag, in which it must be confessed we do “beat all creation.”
Monday we went to the Zoölogical Gardens, very extensive, in fine
keeping, the richest collection of living animals of all sorts in the world.
Were very much amused with monkeys of all sorts and sizes, from those
little larger than a rat to the great and sedate orang-outang,[22] just arrived,
who is quite a human and a very respectable grave old fellow. We saw the
hippopotamus, too, but he lay sleeping in the sun, and would give no sign of
life except occasionally opening his eye and giving a wink. But one of the
most amusing sights was the little suckling elephant, with its mother, and it
was curious to see the little thing use its trunk as perfectly and knowingly as
its mother.... We stayed to see the ferocious animals fed, at half past four, no

great sight, as they behaved extremely proper, and then we hurried back to
the station and came home to Kew.
A short visit to the British Museum, which is an immense collection of
objects of natural history, sculpture, books, antiquities, etc., etc. Had some
botanical work in the herbarium there (the British Museum), but did not do
anything that day, for we spent the time talking to Mr. Brown, who was in
quite a chatty mood. He is a singular-looking man, with a very heavy lower
lip and jaw, and generally carries his head down; but it is curious to watch
him, and see how he kindles up, and what a satirical twinkle comes in the
corner of his eyes when he tells some story, for he has a good deal of satire.

Dr. Gray went to the meeting of the British Association at Ipswich,
where Prince Albert came for a few days. Dr. Hooker and Dr. Harvey (who
had been making a visit at Kew), and other scientific friends, were there.
Among other discussions in one of the sections was one on the possibility
of a railroad to the Pacific, a paper by Asa Whitney, “which had been
brought before the Geographical Society in London, and reported on
favorably.”
From Ipswich he made a most interesting visit to Lady Hooker’s father,
Dawson Turner, seeing his very valuable collections, autographs, pictures,
etc., and returning to Kew to work until breaking up to go back to America.
A short trip was made in Ireland, and Dr. Gray went to Pontrilas to say
goodby to Mr. and Mrs. Bentham, immediately before the voyage. Dr. and
Mrs. Gray were again at home, September 4.
After Dr. Gray’s return from Europe, his busy life went on, filled with
college work and the care of the Garden as accompaniments to a study of
the new collections constantly coming in, the work on the Exploring
Expedition, the keeping his various botanical text-books in their new
editions up with the advancing science, and his always large
correspondence. His letters were chiefly on the questions upon which he
was working, but with many touches on events of interest of the day, and
little playful turns. He says in a letter to Dr. Engelmann, “I well know I
have too many irons in the fire.”
Unfortunately, Mr. Darwin destroyed all the letters he received before
1862, except the one published in his “Life and Letters,” which is inserted
later, as well as one to Sir Joseph Hooker taken from the same volume. The

rest of those to Sir Joseph are mostly bound up in the botanical
correspondence at Kew.
Dr. Gray was an immense worker. After his morning mail was received
and looked over, that he might answer any imperative questions, he took
daylight for his scientific work, and, with pauses for meals, and the
necessary interruptions that came at times, he kept steadily on all the day.
He wrote his letters and his elementary botanical works mostly in the
evening. But in his younger days his eyes were unusually strong, and he
would work with the microscope by lamp-light as readily as by daylight.
Though a steady and unwearying worker he was not rapid. He would
throw aside sheet after sheet to be rewritten, especially if there was
anything he wished to make particularly clear and strong, or any reasoning
to be worked out from the soundest point of view. It was always a wonder
to those about him that he could stand as he did the unceasing labor, but he
was a sound sleeper even if the hours might be short, and of a vigorous,
wiry, active temperament, and when he did take a holiday, he took it
heartily. His rest and recreation were in journeys, longer or shorter, and
every two or three years some long outing would be taken, to give him the
needed refreshment. But he must always be busy even then, somewhere to
go, something to see; rest in quiet seemed impossible to him for more than a
day at a time.

TO CHARLES WRIGHT.

Cambridge, January 23, 1852.
I am printing on “Plantæ Wrightianæ,” the first part of which (as I work
in so much general matter, especially Tex-Mexican), to the end of
Compositæ, will take 225 pages or more, with ten plates,—the most
important memoir I ever wrote, and will indelibly fix our name on the
Texan-New-Mexican Flora....
I have just found a letter of Sullivant’s, dated May 27, 1850, in which he
says, “Send me by all means Wright’s Texan Mosses and Hepaticæ....”
Poor fellow! as I wrote you before, he lost his wife while I was away,
and was overwhelmed, as she was everything to him, and as good a
muscologist almost as he....

You are in a fine field. Hold on and keep a good heart. I long to see what
Colonel Graham is now bringing on to me....
June 5.
There, my dear Wright, I consider myself very much of a gentleman! For
your favor of the 12th April reached me only this afternoon, and now before
the sun has gone down I am answering it! Your letter came very
opportunely too. For, though Colonel Graham has been back so long, it was
only yesterday that I got the collection he brought home with him to
Indianola (and the seeds); and to-day I opened it and had looked over only
two bundles. And I was saying to myself, Now if I only had Mr. Wright’s
list with localities, I should do very well. And when my letters came from
the office, yours, with said list inclosed, was among them. The plants look
well, but I have only peeped into them yet. I am glad if you have found
Amoreuxia malvafolia, but I have not yet hit upon it....
I am still very busy with college work, for a month longer, and with the
Garden; and the Exploring Expedition work has been pressing me, and still
will. But I shall somehow distribute your 1851 collection very soon, name
them up to the end of Compositæ, and in the course of the summer
determine many of the monopetalous families. I have already named and
described a few of these and some Apetalæ to please Colonel Graham, and
named a new Pentstemon after him (which I have growing, too), which
compliment seems to gratify him.
By this time you will have received the index and plates of “Plantæ
Wrightianæ.” Copies are already in England, and I am about to dispatch
many to France, Germany, etc.
You are indeed an invaluable collector, though you do like to grumble
now and then, and I hope the Indians won’t catch you. If they must take a
scalp or a head, there are others I could better spare. So take care of
yourself....

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

February 23, 1852.
I carefully keep your flowering bit of Fendlera, ready to return it if
Lindheimer does not get more, as I trust he will. It is the most interesting of

North American genera, between Deutzia and Philadelphus, and shows
plainly that both are saxifragaceous....
July 28.
I am worked almost to distraction. But college work is now over and I
can get on with fewer irons in the fire.
I fear you are driven up hard also, by the sickly season and cholera. I
hope you may be able to give up practice by and by....
I have had for a good while a misunderstanding with Captain Wilkes
about my work for the Exploring Expedition botany. It is now made up, I
think, or nearly, but I have had no pay from them for a long time, and they
are a year behind in paying. I have got manuscript of several families all
ready for the press, and some fine drawings. I am just now working up
“Plantæ Wrightianæ,” 1851 collection, up to end of Compositæ, old
stopping-place, but must dash beyond that soon....

TO W. J. HOOKER.

Cambridge, December 4, 1852.
Here is a discovery! I have to-day received by post from Dr. J. F.
Beaumont, of Mountain Home, in the upper part of Alabama, specimens of
a Trichomanes, which he finds growing there under shelving rocks. I send
you herewith the half of what is sent me, knowing you will be much
interested in the discovery, for the first time, of a Trichomanes in the United
States; and thinking that you will probably pronounce it to be a form of the
T. radicans, though so much smaller than my Irish and West Indian
specimens.... I have not specimens enough of T. radicans to satisfy myself
entirely, and refer the question to your experienced judgment. Pray give me
your opinion, for the addition of a single species to our few ferns, and
especially one of this group, is a matter of moment to us, and worthy of a
published notice.
I should not be so greatly surprised now if Hymenophyllum ciliatum,
credited by Willdenow to Virginia, should turn up, but I still think there was
some mistake about that; and I could find no specimen in Willdenow’s
herbarium when I sought for it, in 1839....
Next Wednesday’s steamer, which takes this letter, will also take, for a
short European tour, my good father-in-law, Mr. Loring, with Mrs. Loring,

and Mrs. Gray’s brother Charles. A rather sudden determination, but we
have strongly urged the journey ever since the death of their dear little boy,
the little Benjamin, who seemed given to be the comfort and stay of their
declining years, who was born just before our return home, a year ago last
summer. The rest and change are needful to Mr. Loring, also, from being
worn down by his long-continued labors at the bar, of which he is perhaps
the leader in Boston; I am confident it will be of great benefit to him; and
the Old World has much to interest a man of his refined taste.... And then
Kew Garden is to them one of the wonders of the world, as well as a place
with which they have, through us, so many pleasant associations. Should
you wish them to enjoy the privilege of seeing the Gardens under your own
kind auspices, would you notify Mr. Loring through Boott (for I do not now
know what will be their London address), of a day that would be agreeable
and convenient to yourself....
January 4, 1853.
Wright will now soon be off in Ringgold’s North Pacific Surveying
Expedition, to explore Behring Straits, Kurile Islands, the coast of Japan, if
possible, and to winter at the Sandwich Islands.
So we shall have no more New Mexican plants from him.
My new memoir, “Plantæ Wrightianæ,” is now almost all printed, and
contains many novelties. I never had a collection so rich in entirely new
things.
I long to hear what you will say of the Trichomanes from Alabama
which I sent you.
With best wishes for the new year to you and all yours, I remain,
Yours affectionately,
Asa Gray.
January 28, 1853.
“It never rains but it pours” is an old adage suitable to this meridian and
illustrated by what I now send you, namely, a second Trichomanes from
Alabama! discovered by the indefatigable Thomas M. Peters, Esq., of
Moulton, who (and not Mr. Beaumont, it appears) was the first finder of
Trichomanes radicans in Alabama.
This one seems to me clearly a new one....

I think it particularly appropriate in this case that it should bear the name
of its discoverer, so I have called it Trichomanes Petersii, and have sent a
little article on it and Trichomanes radicans to “Silliman’s Journal.” ...

In 1853 began Dr. Gray’s long correspondence with the Dean of St.
Paul’s—a friendship whose intimacy was ever increasing and which lasted
through his life.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

February 7, 1853.
My dear Mr. Church,—Since I heard, which I did first from Mr. Clough,[23]
that you were about to marry and take charge of a parish, I have been
longing every time I wrote to England to add a line expressing my most
sincere congratulations. I hope you will not think me too presuming if I
make bold to do so, and if I ask you where your parish is, for I would gladly
form some idea of where your home is to be. Pleasant and desirable on
many accounts as an Oxford life must be, yet I cannot but think you more
appropriately placed in the pleasant parsonage I can fancy, the centre of a
little world of your own, and the spiritual guide of an attached body of
parishioners, where you will be very happy and very useful.
Still let us hope that the visit to Cambridge, New England, is only
deferred, to afford us a double gratification. I think you can sometimes
leave your parish for three months, or even more with special leave, and the
voyage is becoming shorter and cheaper every year.
I have looked through the “Times,” which I see regularly through the
kindness of a friend, thinking that I might perchance see your appointment,
presentation, or whatever it may be, mentioned; but in vain.
By the way, I am glad to see that you have elected Mr. Gladstone. Your
name on the Oxford Committee makes me suppose you have not yet left
Oxford.
Dr. Albro has returned in restored health, and speaks with much
gratification of his visit to Oxford, only regretting that your absence
prevented his making your acquaintance until the last moment of his short
stay.

Mr. Clough brought me a letter from Maskelyne of Wadham College.
Circumstances, I am sorry to say, have yet prevented me from seeing him
here as much as I could wish. I hope soon to know him better. He has
excellent and influential acquaintances; but one hardly sees what he is to
do.
If he holds Unitarian views, as I have been told, he will perhaps be more
favorably situated, just in Boston or Cambridge, than in England, and
probably meet more cultivated and more religious people of that persuasion
than at home. But if he sympathizes rather with Francis Newman and that
school, as some one tells me, I should think he would not find that class of
people here very attractive to him. But I hope that is not his bent. I have no
partiality for Unitarianism, though it is the faith of near and valued friends.
I am an orthodox Presbyterian, as my fathers were. But in England I should
be a Churchman, although a pretty low one, at least in some respects; and I
am a most hearty well-wisher to the Church of England. So pray, when
settled in your parish, just drop me a line to say where you are, and how old
your parish church is; for hankering after antiquities is, as an Oxford man
told me, a great failing of Americans.

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

Cambridge, March 28, 1853.
My dear Friend,—I am all the more glad that I can direct your attention to
the fourth volume (new series) of the “Memoirs of the American Academy
of Arts and Sciences,” p. 382, where you will find your name enrolled as
the sole Honorary Member for Switzerland.
Ordinarily neither you nor I would be at all solicitous for such
recognition. I care not to have them except where (as in the Linnæan
Society of London, the French Academy, and your own society of Geneva)
I well know the nominations are strictly and conscientiously weighed, and
where the list to be filled is a limited one. But we here prize the name of De
Candolle so highly that we count it a privilege to have it on our foreign
list....
I should state that this academy, the oldest but one in America, was in a
state of inactivity and hebetude since the death of its former president,
Bowditch, till 1843, the year after I came to Cambridge, when it was
determined, chiefly by some of my colleagues in Cambridge, to restore it to

life and vigor. It is now full of life. The number of its foreign members is
now limited to seventy-five, and they are chosen by a very formal process
and a very rigid scrutiny, so as to have only the very best names in the
several departments of knowledge. Formerly they were chosen without such
care; so that there are names on the list that could not be placed there now.
Hereafter the list will be a most select one....
Hereafter we will send our parcels through the Smithsonian Institution
and through its agent, Mr. Hector Bossange, Paris. You justly praise the
publications of this institution. It is on the point of issuing another splendid
volume; and at least one a year will continue to be issued.[24]
Liberal in its distribution, the Smithsonian Institution looks to its
exchanges as a means of building up a library valuable for scientific
researches in this country. You may remember that, when at Geneva, I
ventured to ask you to recommend to the Société de Physique et d’Histoire
Naturelle de Genève, to vote its series of memoirs to the Smithsonian
Institution. But you thought it would not then be quite proper to request it.
Now that the institution has given such evidences of its vigor and
productiveness, and that I can assure you it is only beginning to do its work,
and that in number of volumes it will soon overtake you, I venture to renew
the request which I was then requested to make; and I think that your
society, with these assurances, and in view of the good offices of the
Smithsonian in promoting interchanges (at no small expense), would freely
accord the earlier volumes of its memoirs, on your proposition....
Dr. Harris[25] has made interesting researches on the plants cultivated by
our aborigines, which I urge him to publish; but he is one of those persons
who are never quite ready to print as long as they live.
I have long suspected that Helianthus tuberosus came from North
America. I should like to study from what indigenous species it comes....
As to the “Botany of the South Sea Exploring Expedition,” the
manuscript and the drawings are ready up nearly to the Leguminosæ; and
the printing, which is not under my control, is about to commence. The
work will probably make three quarto volumes and 300 folio plates. I shall
be sure to have a copy to send you. As to the specimens, there are few
duplicates; and of these I am not myself allowed to retain any. Possibly,
hereafter, some may be awarded to me. That expedition did not land on the
high Antarctic coasts it saw, and therefore made no collections there. Its

Antarctic collection is all from Orange Harbor, Tierra del Fuego, and has
little that is new.
The most interesting part of the collection was made at the Sandwich
and Feejee islands.
My wife and I well remember what a charming place Vallon is, and
retain pleasant memories of our trip to the Salève under the charge of
Madame De Candolle, despite the bad weather which spoiled the view. We
should delight to revisit Switzerland. Having no children, it is not
impossible that we may do so; but the time, I fear, is far in the future....
I have written a much longer letter than I had intended when I began.
Believe me to remain, yours very faithfully,
Asa Gray.

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

Cambridge, July 14, 1853.
My dear Engelmann,—This cover has been addressed to you for a long
while, but I have delayed to fill and close it, not so much because you had
not written, for I knew you must be very busy now, but because the
convenient time has not exactly come. For I have been very busy. College
work done up only last week; printing of “Exploring Expedition Botany,” in
which I have read proofs up to 220 pages, and gave to-night finished
manuscript (except a few crooked points to settle in a family or two) up to
the end of Rosaceæ (which will make about 450 pages. It fills up fast with
the open pages adopted in these reports). I shall carry on the volume to 550
or 650 pages, and the plates folio, already 56, shall carry up to 100, if I can.
There is next some tough work in Myrtaceæ and Melastomaceæ; but as to
the latter Naudin has much cleared the way. Those done, and I think I may
venture to work part of the time on the Lindheimer, Fendler, and Wright
Monopetalæ.
Agassiz returned most delighted with his visit to you, and we talked
much of you....
I am afraid to touch Gregg’s Mexican plants, for fear of the time they
would consume. In “Exploring Expedition,” I branch out little or none,
except a few notes in Malvaceæ, and probably more in Compositæ.

If I could do the work abroad, I could work up collateral things most
advantageously; but the means here at disposal are too poor.
Still, you will be pleased with my volume i. when I finish and send it to
you (the letterpress this fall!).
No specimens scarcely of Cactaceæ in collection Exploring Expedition,
—a drawing or two. I shall send them on to you presently....
I grieve to tell you that Adrien de Jussieu is dead. Cancer in the stomach,
his tedious malady proves to have been. It makes a deep impression on the
scientific men, and the public, too, in Paris. He was much my most intimate
correspondent in France, a true friend, and a charming man.
You know, perhaps, that Moquin-Tandon has succeeded the late Achille
Richard at L’Ecole de Médecine. Tulasne, I suppose, will be the new
professor at the Jardin des Plantes; at least he ought to be, as he is the most
able man.
No farther news since my last.
Agassiz looks poorly and says he is not well....
I never could get Fouquiera up. To-day I have sown some seeds, and put
on my own table, by the window, to watch....
18th August.
Agassiz handed me your note about the Compass plant. I took him at
once into the Garden, to see Silphium laciniatum, terebinthinaceum, and
pinnatifidum.
He agreed there was no direction to be made out, one way more than
another. The cauline leaves all tend to become vertical (as in several other
Compositæ), but present neither face nor edge north.
But three years ago Lapham of Wisconsin wrote me that, though the
plant near Milwaukee showed no “polarity” (and so he never believed in it),
yet on going farther west, on the prairies, he found it did generally turn all
to the north there.
If I remember aright, though, he said the surfaces of the leaf look north
and south. You say the edges? How is this? Compare notes with Lapham....
What do you think I am about now? Revising genera of Myrtaceæ for
Exploring Expedition collection.
In these exotic orders I frequently find the genera so at loose ends that I
cannot make the plants of our collection lie comfortably till I have given the

genera a good shaking up. I should be tempted to do much more of this if I
could work at Hooker’s, or in Paris. It is quite as well not, as it would cost
no end of time....
I have found some Fouquiera seedlings up in the Garden. I am right
about it; not Torrey. The leaf is not axillary and its petiole inclosed in the
spine; but the spine is a hardened inferior portion of the petiole that persists,
and from which the rest falls away clean....

TO W. J. HOOKER.

Cambridge, August 3, 1853.
My dear Sir William,—I will endeavor to get some account of Shakerdom
for you. They are a queer people indeed.
Manilla paper[26] is made of old manilla rope, which is largely used by
our shipping. But what plant yields the manilla hemp for this cordage I have
not the means of knowing, that is, whether the Musa textilis or no. I have
been promised specimens of the stem of the plant, etc. But the climate
makes our countrymen indolent there, and forgetful. I will ask for statistics
as to the paper manufacture....
I shall be pleased to have you figure as many of our ferns as you can;
and pray give names to all new species without hesitation. They will be
more fitly named by the describer than by any one else.
I note with satisfaction what you write about genera of ferns. This
pushing a single character (as venation) without regard to consequences,
and giving it the same importance when it does not accord with habit as
when it does, is the fault of most botanologists who restrict their view to
one subject or one idea only. I am glad that you will carefully revise the
genera on your own judgment.
By the way, the fern I sent you last spring, and which you called
Asplenium montanum, Willd. (a species I used to know well), struck the
collector (Beaumont), as it did me, to be different. Pray collate, and perhaps
figure it, as well as the ordinary A. montanum.
I was grieved to hear of the death of Adr. de Jussieu, with whom I have
had a very pleasant correspondence for the last three years, and to whom I
was attached as to no other Frenchman. His late letters were so cheerful and

lively, and even hopeful, that the news of his death took me by surprise,
notwithstanding the steady failure of his health for a long while....
We remember with interest that dear Harvey sets out to-morrow on his
long voyage.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

Christmas Eve, 1853.
My dear Mr. Church,—It is a good time to remember old friends and to
bring up, as well as one may, arrears of neglected duty. I have long
unaccountably neglected to acknowledge your letter of the 24th August, and
to thank you most heartily for the interesting volume of your collected
reviews, which reached me a little earlier (I know not how it was so long
delayed between New York and Cambridge), and which I have received and
read with much pleasure, that is, all I have yet read. For I am saving the
article on Dante for my first leisure hour. The first I read was the article on
Pascal and Ultramontanism, of which I greatly admire the delicate and
thorough handling.
I wish I could send you something of any interest. But I am not well
enough satisfied with the elementary work which I use as a text-book for
my lower classes to offer it; and besides that I have published, since last in
England, only memoirs of the botany of our new western regions, one
volume of the botany of a Government South Sea Expedition, etc., all
dreadfully dry and technical.
I have been unusually busy this year, and am just now especially so,
having to complete the preparation of nine lectures on Vegetation, which I
am to give before the Smithsonian Institution at Washington next month.
I do not much fancy popular lecturing, and do this only to please a very
valued friend, Professor Henry, the secretary of this institution. This over, I
shall return to my regular plodding work at home, with great satisfaction.
I do not wonder that you feel a little nervous about the result of the
experiment at Oxford. I can well understand it, and if I were an Oxford
man, which I should count it a high honor to have been, I should share the
feeling. I count it an excellent thing that the new enactments were framed
by friendly hands, and are not very sweeping. As far as I can judge from the

election of the present council, those of the Movement party by no means
have it all their own way.
It seems to me that the admission of Dissenters to the A. B. degree is a
wise measure, and one that will do no harm to the university nor the church.
But I see not how they can go further. It would not be right that they should
pass to the A. M. and share in the government of the university.
Any position at Oxford or Cambridge which allows of matrimony must
be a desirable one for a person of scholarly pursuits. I can hardly think you
will pass your life at Whatley, but trust you will have some better
preferment and a wider field of duty before long, before Mrs. Gray and
myself will be likely to pay you the visit you kindly solicit, for I see no near
prospect of our revisiting England, though nothing would please us more....

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

7th December, 1853.
I got dreadfully behindhand with everything. “Exploring Expedition
Botany” stopped printing for a long time, but is now renewed; three
hundred or more pages are printed, and copy sent to printer up to
Leguminosæ (excl.). Meanwhile, to look over Brackenridge’s manuscript of
the Filices, to turn a loose ungrammatical lingo into English, and his
English characters into Latin, is a tedious job; then to read his proofs is
another. But if I did not do all this, very bad work indeed would be made of
it. Late in October Mrs. Gray and I went to New York for a week, to visit
Torrey and to see the New York Exhibition. Returning, I had to bear my part
in a course of lectures, which the American Academy gave to the public (to
replenish our publication funds); and to prepare and deliver my two
lectures, on the relations of plants to the sun, cost me almost the whole of
November.
Sprague is too slow, and too feeble in health, to do half what I want
done, let alone others. I must import an additional draughtsman. If you
know any in Germany good enough, who would come out, let me know at
once. If not, I must try at Paris....

TO CHARLES WRIGHT.

May 21, 1853.

The Kurile Islands will be a fine field; and I hope you can do much
among them. Collect some specimens of everything you see there....
Cambridge, February 19, 1854.
Sinner that I am, I have four letters of yours unanswered; the last from
Simon’s Bay, November 4th. The fact is I do not find time to write half the
letters I ought, and those, like yours, which are not to be dispatched on
some particular day, I am sure to postpone and neglect interminably. It
seems so vague, too, to be writing to a man, you know not where,
somewhere on the other side of the world, and you know not when the
epistle may reach him, say six months hence.
Nor is it easy to reflect and remember what I have been doing, so as to
tell you....
I forgot to tell you, too, that Thurber[27] called on me and offered his
plants collected under Bartlett. I have written out the greater part up to the
end of Compositæ, my old sticking-place, a number of new things, mostly
from deeper down in Sonora than you went, and in southwest California.
Beyond doubt Torrey will work up a part. I shall merely furnish characters
and botanical remarks to Thurber, and let him do all the rest of the talk.
Bartlett is still in hopes that the Senate will print a great report for him. I
greatly doubt if they do. If so, Thurber’s botany will go as an appendix. If
not, he will make a memoir of the things up to Compositæ, and the striking
things beyond, and afterwards I may lick up the rest in the general
continuation of “Plantæ Wrightianæ,” etc.
Meanwhile the United States minister at Mexico has been making a
treaty, now before our Senate, for buying a further slice of Chihuahua and
Sonora, to take in Lake Guzman and the Sonora country some way south of
where you went, that is, below San Pedro. So there will have to be a new
survey if this treaty is ratified, and a chance of more botany. I wish you
were to be here to attend to it; only you have already taken off the cream of
that country, and can now do more, and find more novelty, in some of the
countries you are going to.
From Governor Stevens’s party, from Minnesota to Washington
Territory, north of Oregon, bundles of plants are sent home to Baird and by
him forwarded to me. Wretched specimens, and nothing new among
them!...

Captains at sea are very apt to get a little crusty, which should be minded
just as little as possible. I expect to hear that, after getting well settled and at
home in the Vincennes, you find yourself comfortable and all pleasant.
Gentlemanly conduct and devotion to one’s pursuits will at length make one
respected, anywhere.
When you return, I trust you will yourself prepare the botanical report of
your cruise. I hope so, for your own sake, both scientifically and because
your doing so will keep you on pay some years longer on shore. I will aid
you, if I live, most willingly over knotty points, etc.; perhaps would like to
do certain families further than that; not, if you will take hold of it yourself,
as you ought to do.
I suppose you will have found nothing new at the Cape, though the
vegetation there must have been novel to you. It will be pleasant, in the
long cruises, to study yourself the plants collected at the last port. Did you
get any nice Algæ? Look out for them hereafter.
When you are on surveying-ground, you may probably be transferred
back to the steamer again.
Presently your letters will be coming to me via California. I hope to
continue to hear such good accounts of your health and activity. Do not
measure my interest in your letters by the number I myself write, though I
mean to write oftener in future. No news here, scientific or other. Mr. Carey,
you know, has gone back to England to live, and has married a young wife
there, moreover.

TO W. J. HOOKER.

Cambridge, March 28, 1854.
I send a glass bottle filled with the pulp and seed of Cereus giganteus as
gathered by the natives, and used for food, the same as what I formerly sent
you a small quantity of in a letter, trusting the seeds would grow, as they are
not subjected to heat in making this jam.
I have some pieces of the wood of the great Wellingtonia tree, which I
estimate to be not older probably than the Christian era. Torrey has no fruit,
nor have I; but there are some cones in Philadelphia. The wood is very like
that of the red-wood, i. e., Taxodium sempervirens. I hope we shall get the

male flowers, but I have no correspondent in California, and Torrey no very
good or energetic ones.
How hard it is to believe that there is a European war! I trust it will be
short. Some of our own people are behaving very badly about Cuba, but it
is mostly talk for effect, and will lead to nothing, we hope.

TO GEORGE THURBER.

Cambridge, 20th April, 1854.
Dear Thurber,—When yours of the 17th arrived, and till now, I have been
too much absorbed in college duties to consider it, as I now rapidly will.
Ranunculus 441. I never liked naming a plant after a person who has had
nothing to do with it, as collector, describer, and nothing else; therefore do
not like R. Huntiana. We will wait for some other mode of complimenting
Mr. Hunt. Moreover, I have hit on a name which pleases me tolerably, viz.,
R. hydrocharoides, which, by your leave, we will adopt.
Thurberia specific name? That is a question to consider, and no very pat
name at once applicable both to the species and the discoverer occurs to me.
“Thurberia palmata” might pass, and would anglicize into “the handy
Thurber,” but then the hand has only three fingers.
“T. tridactyla” would meet this; but only birds are tridactylous; besides,
the uppermost leaves are entire.
Taking another tack, from its smoothness, we might say, T. glabra or T.
lævis; or, as I believe you have not a strong beard, T. imberbis. But, on the
whole, perhaps it would be as well to indicate merely the nearest affinity of
the genus, and call it “Thurberia thespesioides,” as it is nearest Thespesia.
Take your choice, though, of any of the above, to which add “T. rosea,” if
the color of the flower warrants that name.

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

Cambridge, June 1, 1854.
My dear Friend,—It was with great pleasure that I received from you, two
days ago, your letter of the 2d May. I counted myself your debtor, although,
indeed, my last letter of 18th October is of later date than yours of the 1st
October, which it crossed on the ocean, and I was only waiting until I could

announce a small envoi to you, namely, that of a copy of the 1st volume of
the “Botany of the United States Exploring Expedition in the South Seas,”
which has been more than a year in printing. This 4th volume (777 pages) is
at length happily printed off, and just in time, too, for sending you a copy
(unbound, direct from the printing-office at Philadelphia) in the annual
envoi of the Smithsonian Institution.
The atlas, of 100 plates in folio, which should accompany this volume, is
by no means ready, owing to the slowness as well as the feeble health of the
artist, Mr. Sprague; perhaps, even, it may not reach you before next year, by
the same mode of conveyance.
I have now, indeed, some hopes that the “Flora of North America” may
soon be carried through the Gamopetalæ, I elaborating at the same time, in
a general memoir, the Gamopetalæ of Wright’s, Fendler’s, and
Lindheimer’s collections in continuation; a pretty formidable matter!
In a separate small parcel you will find (in the Smithsonian envoi) some
brochures for you.... Among them is a short article in “Silliman’s Journal,”
accompanying a reprint of a great part of Dr. Hooker’s Introductory Essay
to the “Flora of New Zealand.” Agassiz here is committed to the view
opposite to Hooker’s, in an equally extreme form. I wished to interpose
some criticisms to both views, but had only time to touch briefly on one or
two points. I wait with impatience for your work on “Géographie
Botanique,” expecting very much from it, from your great ability, long
study of the subject, and fairness of mind. Indeed, I was daily expecting to
learn that it was published; and now you tell me that the printing is barely
begun; the “Prodromus,” volume 14, not yet begun! But I am one of the last
persons who ought to complain of delay in execution....
From the family of the late M. de Jussieu, you should receive a copy of
the “Epistolæ Linnæano-Jussieuanæ,” with our late friend’s notes, etc., the
last scientific work of his too short life.[28] I intended to send you a copy
myself, but at the request of M. Ramond I surrendered the small extra
edition to his charge for distribution. In due time you will have a copy in the
volume of the “Memoirs of the American Academy” also. My
daguerreotype of M. Jussieu was most opportunely taken. His family,
having no recent portrait, have solicited the loan of it, to aid in the
preparation of an engraved likeness; and I have placed it in their hands.

I delayed the last sheet of the “Correspondence” long, awaiting an
answer to my request for some materials (notices, éloges, etc.), from which
I could prepare something of a biographical nature to append, but I received
nothing, at least until too late. In the May number of the “Kew Journal of
Botany,” Hooker has reprinted my brief note; but by some accident, the
marks of quotation are omitted from the two last paragraphs, which appear
as if written by the editor of the “Journal.” ...
Believe me to remain, my dear friend and honored colleague, as ever,
your sincerely attached,
Asa Gray.

TO W. J. HOOKER.

Cambridge, February 5, 1855.
My dear Sir William,—The inclosed, from our good friend Dr. Short,[29] and
the box it advises, came while I was at Washington, from which I have just
returned. Mrs. Gray and I have enjoyed our month’s holiday very much;
though I was kept busy enough, having to deliver nine lectures in three
weeks. We had arranged to have a few days at New York, in which I could
work with Dr. Torrey; but the good man was called off to Washington on
business just as I left that place, and we crossed en route, and I came on
home, in consequence....
I am very glad Mr. Smith was pleased with the live plants I sent. Please
remind him that I should like to share in the distribution of seeds this
spring. And if I find time to make out a short list, I may ask for some live
plants again....
I have a Cereus giganteus six inches high, and I saw several others. They
have no hair, and appear very unlike C. senilis....
There is an authentic account in some numbers of “Silliman’s Journal”
last year of the size of that prostrate trunk (Wellingtonia-Washingtonia).
Mr. Blake, at Washington, told me something of it, but I forget the
numbers. I will ask him, as he is a reliable person. But 450 feet is rather too
tall.
So they would talk about the tree that was felled being 3,000 years old
(and took in Lindley), whereas it was not quite 1,300! It appears to grow
much faster than S. sempervirens.[30] ...

A great loss in Forbes’s death. I have been trembling lest I should hear
that Dr. Hooker is chosen to the chair at Edinburgh, which would give him
very good pay, I suppose, and he would fill the place well, but it would take
him away from special botany, which would be a great pity....

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

May 29, 1855.
The class which leaves college this summer have bespoken photographic
likenesses, on paper, of their professors,—my colleagues and myself,—and
this gives me an opportunity of obtaining from the artist some duplicate
copies of that for which I sat, and which Mrs. Gray pronounces a very good
likeness.
It is not so much vanity that induces me to ask you to accept of the copy
I inclose, as the hope of getting yours in return, if that same style be
adopted in Geneva, and be as little expensive as here,—to add to the already
considerable number of portraits of botanists which make the chief
adornment of my rooms,—among which the fine engraving of your
distinguished father is conspicuous. I need not say that I should be glad to
place the likeness of the son near to that of the father. Ever, my dear De
Candolle,
Your sincere and faithful,
Asa Gray.

TO CHARLES WRIGHT.

August 28, 1855.
For a long while now I have been waiting for a good evening when I was
not too tired to write you a long letter to meet you in California, in return,
though a poor return, for your several nice letters from China.
It is now time my letter was off,—when lo and behold!—
Yesterday morning I was sitting here busy with steady work and not
expecting much interruption; now, this evening, my passage is taken, my
trunk packed, I am hurriedly closing up affairs, and to-morrow morning go
on board steamer America and sail for Liverpool. I have to go and look after
my brother-in-law, who is sick in Paris of a fever. No one of the family can
go but me, and I manage to find the time. Mr. Loring pays the traveling

charges, and off I go, to be gone, however, not over two months, perhaps
not so long; a week in Paris, another at Kew, a few days more in England;
this must repay me (besides the consciousness of having done my duty) for
some twenty odd days of discomfort at sea!
What have I been doing of late? Not much accomplished, i. e.,
published. Of my “Plantæ Novæ Thurberianæ” and “Notes on Vavæa and
Rhytidandra” I have sent you copies already, but I will send you more.
A useful article on the Smithsonian Institution, in July number of
“Silliman,” probably you have seen in the “Journal;” never mind, I send
you a separate copy by mail. Some critical notices which I have no copies
of.
What I am about doing, I can always talk largely of. I am preparing a
new edition of the “Manual of Botany of the Northern United States,” and a
new elementary work[31] of a familiar character, to go with it, separate and
with original pictures on wood by Sprague, and I am to finish the “Flora”
volume and “Plantæ Wrightianæ” with it. I have determined Berlandier’s
plants up to end of Compositæ. Also I have done, along with Torrey, the
botany of several expeditions across the continent for railroad surveys,
which are soon to be published. Work goes slowly and I grow old. This
little holiday will not be a bad thing for me, though it puts me back a little.

TO W. J. HOOKER.

Cambridge, October 23, 1855.
Now that I am quietly settled at home again, my episode seems almost
like a dream,—a very pleasant one, however, since it gave me the pleasure
of seeing once more some most valued and near friends. I was absent only
six weeks and one day, of which twenty-two days were passed upon the
water.
I found all well here on my return, but I was deeply grieved to learn the
news of our beloved friend Dr. Torrey’s bereavement. It was about a month
ago that the companion of his life, almost from his youth, was removed to a
better world, after an illness of only a few days.... She was one of the most
actively good, self-denying persons I ever knew. There are many to mourn
at her departure out of her own family, especially among the poor and the
distressed.... She was one of my earliest and best friends, one to whom I

owe more than to almost any person; and I feel the loss as I should that of a
near and dear relative.
I wrote you a line, with some inclosures, while at sea, and posted it at
Halifax, N. S....
When I send the package from Holton,[32] I wish also to send you live
seedlings of a palm from Sonora, Mexico, raised from seeds gathered by
Thurber, and one or two other things.
I do not forget the large “cypress knees” I promised, which will be rather
striking in your famous museum, and I look out for an opportunity to send
by sailing vessel direct to London.
Remember me affectionately to Lady Hooker (for whom Mrs. Gray
incloses a few lines) and most cordially to Mr. Bentham, who so kindly
came down from the country to give me the opportunity of seeing him, for
which I am greatly obliged.
P. S.—I forgot to tell you that, by the hands of Hon. Miss Murray (who
returns to England by this week’s steamer), I send you the September
number of “Silliman’s Journal.” Should she forget to send it to you, please
remind her when she comes to Kew, as assuredly she will, to talk about her
Florida new fern. I have filled up the Ward case which she brought over,
also a box of American plants which she takes, I suppose, for Mr. Fox
Strangways. Her various boxes and packages will nearly fill the ship, I
should think.
Miss Murray is a most lively, most active person, has traveled widely
through the country, and traversed rough places, such as no other woman
past sixty ever did. She has seen a great deal, but heard very little, I should
think, as she talks incessantly, and in a lively, interesting way, too.
You will not be disappointed by the suppression of her manuscript by her
English friends, I suppose, for she is fully determined to rush into print, to
print her journal just as it was written from day to day; for she now feels
she has a mission to rescue the South from the obloquy and wrong heaped
upon it by us of the North, and by England. Save the mark!
At any rate, her journal will be piquant.
I am anxious to know how far we can economically use the post for the
transmission of printed matter. Perhaps I could safely send you “Silliman’s
Journal” in this way. As an experiment I now send you our University

catalogue. No, it will not do, I see, for anything weighing over two ounces
or three. Beyond this the rates increase woefully....

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

18th October, 1855.
Yours of August 30th (answered by my wife) was written when I was
one day at sea. Yours of October 13, which arrived to-day, was written two
days after I reached home again. I had two very pleasant voyages, on the
whole, and not long, ten and a half and eleven and a half days; eleven days
in Paris (where I was detained a little by a severe cold on my lungs) and a
week in England, mostly at London and Kew. I found my brother-in-law so
convalescent that I might have stayed at home, and I brought him home
with me in good condition. We had hoped, till the last moment, to get places
in the steamer of the 13th October, and to have had a fortnight more in
England. But all the places had been engaged for months, and nobody was
giving up berths up to the time we sailed; so we had to come in steamer of
the 29th ult., where we got a good stateroom by great luck, though the
vessel was greatly crowded. Dr. Joseph D. Hooker (whom I had wanted to
see for some time) being away in Germany, and time being extremely
valuable to me here, I was on the whole very glad to get home. The
naturalists at Paris were en vacance, and mostly away. I saw only
Brongniart, Spach, Gay, Dr. Montagne, and Trécul (who sent, I believe,
some pamphlets for you; the package is not yet unpacked), and my good
friend Vilmorin. Boissier was there from Geneva.
In England I spent all the little time I could command at dear Hooker’s at
Kew; and Bentham, then in the country, came down to see me. I made a
long and interesting call on Robert Brown, who is very old, but full of
interest. I shall not again see this Nestor of botanists, as well as facile
princeps, in this world.
Hooker was much delighted when I told him you were coming next
spring to see him at Kew. He insisted upon taking me over to see the Cactus
house, and all through it, so that I might tell you what a mass of Cacteæ
there are there; and he will be much pleased to have you work among them.
He spoke about his Cuscuteæ, but was not at all displeased at your retaining
them; begged you would work them up if possible before returning them.
You will be charmed with Sir William when you see him.

As to the “Manual,” my plan, as at present advised, is to cross the line of
slavery a little, to take in Kentucky and Virginia; this makes the real
division, in botanical geography, between North and South. It should be
Northern ground, too, down to this line: for north of it slave labor is good
for nothing; and there would be no slaves there, except for the Southern
market. I cannot take in Missouri, for I must make the Mississippi my
boundary. But all your St. Louis plants cross into Illinois, do they not? Tell
me how this is. I shall get at work at the new edition soon. I shall first press
on the “Lessons” a little further.
About Fouquiera; I have examined it here repeatedly on the live plant,
which every year prolongs its main axis an inch or two. And I took leaves to
Providence to show there, especially to remove any lingering doubt on
Torrey’s mind. For Torrey would long have it that the spine was a primary
leaf, and that an axillary leaf adhered to it by its petiole. He now knows
better.
I just saw Agassiz. He looks well and strong....
I read Alphonse De Candolle’s “Géographie Botanique Raisonnée” on
the voyage home: a most able work it is, full of interesting matter very
methodically arranged. Hooker and Thomson’s “Flora Indica,” vol. i., is
famous for its able introductory essay, etc.

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

October 27, 1855.
Your welcome letter of the 7th of August duly reached me. I meant to
have surprised you by an answer dated at Paris; but the eleven days I passed
there were too busily occupied to allow it. M. Boissier will have told you of
my sudden voyage, and the cause of it. I was absent from home only six
weeks and a day; and twenty-two days of the forty-three were passed on the
water. On returning home I found here:
1. The excellent lithographed portrait of yourself, a pleasing and pretty
good likeness. Of the three copies I have offered one to Torrey, the other to
Short.
2. The copy of “Géographie Botanique,” which you so kindly addressed
to me. (I have already learned that Agassiz and Darlington have theirs; but
Torrey not his, and I have directed inquiries to be made.) This was not my

first introduction to the book; for I bought a copy of Masson in Paris, to
read on the voyage, when I could have more leisure than at home. And I
carefully read it then (after having dispatched Hooker and Thomson’s
“Flora Indica”) up as far as to p. 1087, when I was obliged by the close of
the voyage to break off, at a very interesting point; and I cannot yet resume
the reading.
I cannot sufficiently express my profound admiration of this book, so
thorough and conscientious, so capital in its method, and embodying such a
vast amount of facts well discussed; it might well be the work of a long life.
I have marked in many places points on which I may have a word to say,
sometimes little details to add or correct, sometimes a criticism to hazard.
If time (which is now precious to me) permit, I will write a series of
articles on it for “Silliman’s Journal,” which will serve to make the work
generally known to our people, and in which I can insert any commentaries
I have time and room for. One article I will devote to plants introduced into
this country from Europe. Now that you have so well collected and digested
the principal information, it will be easy to complete and correct some
points; and this may be useful to you hereafter, as well as to me....
I will procure from Dr. Harris any information he has collected about the
potato, which, if Raleigh took it from Virginia to England, must have been
brought to Virginia from South America. It was certainly unknown to our
aborigines, who, however, along with maize, cultivated beans (Phaseoli)
and squashes (Cucurbitæ).
Dr. Hooker had written to me, eulogizing your work in the highest terms.
I missed seeing him when in England.
Agassiz speaks most highly of it; but I think he has only looked rapidly
through its pages as yet....
I am at this moment preparing to begin the printing of the 2d edition of
my “Manual of the Botany of the Northern States.” ...
In consequence of your book, I shall take pains to classify the introduced
plants, according to the degree of naturalization, etc.
Many thanks for sending me your portrait. I am already quite rich in the
likenesses of botanists, many of which adorn the walls of my apartments....
Believe me to remain, my dear friend, yours very faithfully and truly,
Asa Gray.

TO W. J. HOOKER.

Cambridge, February 25, 1856.
My dear Sir William,—Holton is bringing out a book upon New Granada
which will be interesting....
The cypress knee sent was the best and handsomest I had, though not the
largest. I am glad it pleases you. But you mistook what I said, or meant to
say, which was, that tucked away in the hollow you would find placed a
specimen of a forming knee, not much bigger than your knuckle, on a piece
of root a foot or so long. Was this overlooked or lost? Please tell me; for I
can replace it with another, and physiologically it would be well to show the
formation in its various stages....
I want to send you a book by a young friend of ours, Olmsted, on the
seaboard slave States,[33] an admirable volume, full of information, and
lively withal. I wait for an opportunity. Lady Hooker will be interested in it.
Our united warm regards to her.
Thanks to the Duke for anything to facilitate transmission of printed
matter. But it is still high; for example, your “Journal,” which I get by post,
costs 6d. each number, paid in London, and about 1d. more paid here. There
is still room for improvement. I dare not send you “Silliman’s Journal” yet
by post.
June 30, 1856.
Charles Wright, who was in the North Pacific Expedition under
Ringgold and Rogers, has left his ship at California instead of making the
voyage round Cape Horn, and crossed over the Nicaragua route, intending
to botanize there some months. Finding himself there among our vile
filibustering people, and all in confusion, however, he was soon obliged to
come on home. He is awaiting the arrival of his ship, and will not till this
autumn be able to touch his Pacific collections, of which the best and
principal were made in Hongkong, Bonin, and the Loo Choo Islands and
Japan. That they are not larger is not his fault.
Wright has a perfect passion for collecting plants; and already begins to
plan other explorations. To satisfy his cravings for a while, I have proposed
to him to go to St. Iago de Cuba, and explore that end of the island. What do
you think of it? Has any botanist collected there? Would it be too like
Jamaica to offer much novelty? But to return. In Nicaragua, Wright

collected a goodly quantity of seeds, one set of which he wishes me to send
to you; a present to Kew Gardens, as I understand it....
By the way, it was most lucky that I hurried up and had sent on to you
the copy of Brackenridge’s “Filices;” for a fire in Philadelphia has
consumed all of the poor fellow’s edition of the volume except ten copies
which had been sold mostly in Europe. A sad and a heavy loss to B., who
had no insurance, and something to me who had advanced to him the paper
for printing it on, which now the poor fellow is in no condition to pay for. I
have not even a copy of the atlas myself, but I shall get one from the
government plates, which are preserved. Brackenridge utterly despairs of
reprinting it. But possibly the government will set up the type for him again,
as they have also lost a part of their small impression. Otherwise the book
will have the value of excessive rarity, if it has no other....
May 25, 1857.
I hear with delight that you are meditating a trip to America, and I write
forthwith to express my own and Mrs. Gray’s and my good father-in-law’s
earnest hope that you will come over, even if it be for a few weeks only.
The rest of the voyage cannot but be useful to so busy a person as you
constantly are, and a run through the country, and a sight of the Yankee
world, would interest you. At the Montreal scientific meeting you would see
several old friends and many new ones. Torrey, Greene, Darlington,[34]
James,[35] etc., would be half frantic with pleasure at the thought of seeing
you; so it will not do to hint at such a thing, until you give me authority;
and as for my wife and me, we will look after you like dutiful children, will
go with you to Niagara, or to Lake Superior, if you will go so far, for there
is nothing would give us so much pleasure as a visit from you; and if you
would bring Lady Hooker or Mrs. Evans, or both, with you, it would be
charming. The voyage is nothing to speak of, traveling here is easy and
rapid, although not so very comfortable, as in England, and a good deal of
the country can be seen in a few weeks without much fatigue. Pray do
come, and exceedingly gratify,
Your affectionate and faithful
A. Gray.

TO JAMES D. DANA.

December 13, 1856.

My dear Dana,—I duly received the sheets I asked for.
The right way to bring a series of pretty interesting general questions
towards settlement is perhaps in hand (though I do not expect myself to
bring anything important to bear on it), viz., for a number of totally
independent naturalists, of widely different pursuits and antecedents, to
environ it on all sides, work towards a common centre, but each to work
perfectly independently. Such men as Darwin, Dr. Hooker, De Candolle,
Agassiz, and myself,—most of them with no theory they are bound to
support,—ought only to bring out some good results. And the less each one
is influenced by the other’s mode of viewing things the better. For my part,
in respect to the bearings of the distribution of plants, etc., I am determined
to know no theory, but to see what the facts tend to show, when fairly
treated.
On the subject of species, their nature, distribution, what system in
natural history is, etc., certain inferences are slowly settling themselves in
my mind, or taking shape; but on some of the most vexed questions I have
as yet no opinion whatever, and no very strong bias, thanks, partly, to the
fact that I can think of and investigate such matters only now and then, and
in a very desultory way.
I cannot say that I believe in centres of radiation for groups of species.
From Darwin’s questions to me I think I perceive some of the grounds on
which he would maintain it. One is attended to on page 77 of the January
number [of “Silliman’s Journal”], but I am not clear that they are not just as
susceptible of other interpretation.
But as to a centre of radiation for each separate species, I must say I
have a bias that way. You seem to have also, and you can best judge
whether this, combined with geological considerations, would not involve
centres of radiation for groups of species as well, to a certain extent. Would
not the fact that the members of peculiar groups (in Vegetable Kingdom) are
to a great extent localized favor that view?
I am glad to hear that your idea of the unity of the human species is
confirmed more and more. The evidence seems to me most strongly to
favor it. And you well discriminate the separate questions of unity of
birthplace and unity of parentage....
As to the physical question, surely you do not suppose that, in a fresh
race, the one or two necessary close intermarriages would sensibly

deteriorate the stock. Look at domestic animals of peculiar races,—how
long you can breed in and in without much abatement of health or vigor!
Did you ever consider the question of the cause of deterioration from
interbreeding?
I think I have somewhere in the “Journal” stated my notion about it, or
hinted at it. If not, I will, some day; for I have a pretty decided opinion
about it: that hereditary transmission of individual peculiarities involves
also, among them, the transmission of disease, or tendency to disease,—a
constantly increasing heritage of liability as interbreeding goes on; in plants
well exemplified by maladies affecting old cultivated varieties long
propagated by division.
I should much enjoy a visit with you at New Haven, and so would my
wife, no less. Hope we may some day....
Yours faithfully,
A. Gray.

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

March 26, 1857.
Fendler is back again in the country of Venezuela, and making fine
collections. He will complete the sets of his former distribution, but not
send the same things over again. He has found many more Filices. Will you
and M. Dunant continue?
On Wright’s return home he was troubled with rheumatism, and longed
for a warm climate to pass the winter in. So I sent him to the east end of
Cuba (where I wished the Huets to go). He is doing very well there.
Oregon is still in a disturbed and unsafe state. But I should inform you
that a commission has been raised to run our northwestern boundary with
the British government; and it will probably be commenced this year. The
party would have a sufficient escort, and this would give the Huets a safe
opportunity for botanizing across the continent in a high latitude, if they are
so disposed. I know not any details, but I could learn them, if need be, and
there would be no difficulty in procuring needful protection for the Huets,
they finding their own subsistence.
I have published two statistical articles, based on my “Botany of the
Northern States,” in “Silliman’s Journal,” and a third is now printing in that

journal for May. I shall have extra copies to send you. There are other topics
I mean to take up, if I can find time....

TO GEORGE BENTHAM.

May 4, 1857.
Since your letter came I have looked up and read the article in the
“Edinburgh,” and like it much. Your few words about Genera, page 517,
appear to comprise the gist of the whole matter. As to your fuller exposition,
not being able to lay hands on the “Literary Gazette,” I wait to see your
article in the “Journal of the Linnæan Society.”
I am particularly interested in what you write of your popular “British
Flora,” and the English names; and I am going to ask you to explain to me
more fully the principles on which you proceed. For, if practicable, I am
going to have occasion to do something of the sort here. Pray illustrate your
plan a little; as I see much difficulty in carrying it out, except in so small a
flora as the British, where every plant has a popular name. One additional
difficulty here is that our common English names are mostly misapplied
ones, and the plants that have indigenous trivial names have too many of
them, varying in different parts of the country.
How do you name the orders? What relation will you have between your
specific names and your generic, and how many words will you allow each
to consist of?
Give me your names through some family, say Ranunculaceæ. If I can
see my way clear, I shall follow your lead, or cause it to be followed on an
occasion which will soon be presented.
I wish I had known of Clitoria Mariana-acuminata, etc., in time to add it
to my list in the last number of “Silliman’s Journal;” a copy of the article
was sent to Dr. Hooker by post last week. I will send more, from my extras,
presently.
I am quite prepared for what you say about interchange of species of
United States and Europe taking place via Asia, instead of across the
Atlantic; but you will see there are a few, besides aquatics (Subularia,
Eriocaulon, etc.), which would seem to have taken the shorter cut.
As respects identical species, interchange is the only thing that, on our
views of what a species is, will explain the occurrence of the same species

here and there. But as to genera, I do not yet feel free to assume an
interchange, or a former continuity of land, between two widely separated
regions on account of their having identical genera or closely related
species. I see no reason why cognate species may not have been originally
given to most widely separated stations; and, as to the facts of association,
can we say more than this, that the species of a genus are apt to be confined
to one part of the world? Are there not too many cases to the contrary to
warrant our suspecting former continuity of two remote districts on account
of common genera? Peculiar genera, such as Torreya, Illicium,
Philadelphus, Astilbe, etc., divided between Japan and the United States of
America, indicate some peculiar relation, and are most noteworthy, but I do
not see why it points to connection.
I am very glad you are turning your good, logical mind and immense
knowledge to this class of topics; but do not let it run off with too much of
your valuable time. I take far more satisfaction in discussing questions of
botanical affinity; and long to get back to that sort of work. Just now, I must
needs be absorbed in elementary work and teaching, but look to see an end
of this.
I have been watching the development of the ovules of Magnolia;
nothing can be more normal than they are, in the early stages.
When Wright comes home from Cuba I expect to get hold of his
considerable north Japan collection, which I expect to find very interesting
on questions of distribution, the very questions you ask me to consider.
I doubt if our “mountain backbone” actually stops any species, itself,
from advancing east or west.
I wish you would compare our White Birch with the European B. alba,
and let me know the result. Also the Chestnuts....

TO R. W. CHURCH.

Cambridge, May 15, 1857.
An acquaintance en route for Scotland has offered to take some small
parcels for me.
Among them is one I have taken the liberty to address to you, a copy of a
very elementary book[36] I have prepared as an introduction to my favorite
science, finding there was no one in use here which I thought fit to put into

the hands of young beginners. Here botany is taught, somehow or other, in
most schools, and generally by incompetent teachers from wretched books,
i. e., those used in the ordinary schools and for young people.
I have endeavored, in the little book I send you, to make real science as
easy and simple as possible. I doubt if I have yet aimed low enough; but the
book seems to take, and promises to be useful.
Although not adapted for your meridian (where you have doubtless good
elementary books enough), yet when your boy, who must now be five or six
years old, if he has been spared to you, gets a few years older, I shall be
much gratified if this little volume should interest him, and aid you
somewhat in developing in his mind a love for the study of nature in one of
its pleasantest branches....
I want to offer you my new “Manual of the Botany of the Northern
United States,” not that it can be of any use or of much interest to you, but
must not load my kind acquaintance with more parcels. I wait for an
opportunity of sending through the booksellers, before long.

TO JAMES D. DANA.

November 7, 1857.
If you have plenty, please send me two more copies of your “Thoughts
on Species.”
I first read it carefully, a week ago, and I meant to write you at once how
I like it, and a few remarks, but something prevented at the time, and I have
been very busy and preoccupied ever since.
For the reason that I like the general doctrine, and wish to see it
established, so much the more I am bound to try all the steps of the
reasoning, and the facts it rests on, impartially, and even to suggest all the
adverse criticism I can think of. When I read the pamphlet I jotted down on
the margin some notes of what struck me at the time. I will glance at them
again, and see if, on reflection, they appear likely to be of the least use to
you, and if so will send them, taking it for granted that you rather like to be
criticised, as I am sure I do, when the object is the surer establishment of
truth.
In your idea of species as specific amount or kind of concentrated force,
you fall back upon the broadest and most fundamental views, and develop

it, it seems to me, with great ability and cogency.
Taking the cue of species, if I may so say, from the inorganic, you
develop the subject to great advantage for your view, and all you say must
have great weight, in “reasoning from the general.”
But in reasoning from inorganic species to organic species, and in
making it tell where you want it and for what you want it to tell, you must
be sure that you are using the word “species” in the same sense in the two,
that the one is really an equivalent of the other. That is what I am not yet
convinced of. And so to me the argument comes only with the force of an
analogy, whereas I suppose you want it to come as demonstration. Very
likely you could convince me that there is no fallacy in reasoning from the
one to the other to the extent you do. But all my experience makes me
cautious and slow about building too much upon analogies; and until I see
further and clearer, I must continue to think that there is an essential
difference between kinds of animals or plants and kinds of matter. How far
we may safely reason from the one to the other is the question. If we may
do so even as far as you do, might not Agassiz (at least plausibly) say, that
as the species Iron was created in a vast number of individuals over the
whole earth, so the presumption is that any given species of plants or
animals was originated in as many individuals as there are now, and over as
wide an area, the human species under as great diversities as it now has
(barring historical intermixture)?—so reducing the question between you to
insignificance, because then the question whether men are of one or of
several species would no longer be a question of fact, or of much
consequence.
You can answer him from another starting-point, no doubt; but he may
still insist that it is a legitimate carrying out of your own principle....
The tendency of my mind is opposed to this sort of view; but you may be
sure that before long there must be one more resurrection of the
development theory in a new form, obviating many of the arguments
against it, and presenting a more respectable and more formidable
appearance than it ever has before....
I wanted to say something on the last two pages, but as I have nothing in
particular to except to, and much to approve, and as it is late bedtime, I
spare you further comments.

I set out to find flaws, as likely to be more suggestive and therefore far
more useful to you than any amount of praise, with which I could fill page
after page.

TO W. J. HOOKER.

Cambridge, December 6, 1857.
Your first letter is now gone to Sullivant, because you speak of him so
handsomely, and say that Mitten is instructed to prepare a set of Mosses for
him. A noble fellow is Sullivant and deserves all you say of him and his
works. The more you get to know of him the better you will like him.
Let me tell you about my “Manual of the Botany of the Northern United
States.” It was quite impossible, of course, that the publishers should
provide such illustrations as the fourteen plates and keep the book at a
salable price, so Sullivant, on his own motion, had the eight plates of Musci
engraved in copper, at his own cost, for $630 (about £126), and gave them
to the work, after printing 250 copies for his separate booklet I sent you. I
gave the six plates of Ferns, etc., cut on stone by Sprague to complete the
plan. In the “Journal” you are wrong in supposing that the Musci were even
drawn by Sprague. If in time please correct this when you notice his book.
Sullivant drew them all with his own hands (as he did those of former
memoirs which pleased you well), and had them copied and reduced to
proper size by a German artist he employs. So that besides his labor, he has
expended at least £180 in money, on these plates. They were executed on
copper by a young engraver in Boston.
Your second letter, begun the day the other was dispatched, reached me a
few days ago, while dear Torrey was here on a visit. He has just returned to
New York. We called to see Greene, but he was not in....

TO GEORGE BENTHAM.

November 16, 1857.
I have noted with interest Naudin’s doings in Cucurbitacæ. It has
induced me to look a little into the geographical question, and I begin really
to think C. Pepo, and perhaps others, are American. Mr. Sophocles, our
Greek tutor, who knows cultivated plants well, and everything about
mediæval and ancient Greek, is quite clear that the ancients knew nothing

of pumpkins and winter squashes, and is able to correct De Candolle’s
lucubrations in one or two points. Our New England and Canadian
aborigines had beans, too. Those and Cucurbita came north from a warmer
climate with maize, I presume....
When I got your proof-sheet of the “British Flora” and your long letter
of 28th May, there was something I wanted to talk about, I dare say, but
there was no writing then, as you had gone abroad, and now the subject is
all out of my head. But I have occasion to take up the subject of popular
names of plants quite seriously in a week or two, and I may have something
to remark.
I wish to follow your lead, but should be disposed to go rather farther
than you do in adopting English names. For instance, I would certainly
adopt Mousetail instead of Myosure. Myosure is hardly more English than
before clipping its tail a little, and Mousetail is the exact equivalent.
Corydal and Astragal I quite like, as they have really no English names. I
incline to Crowfoot as a generic appellation. To extend it over the whole
genus is only doing what is so often done with scientific generic names. In
the case of genera having very strongly marked subgenera, would it not be
possible to let the subgeneric name govern the popular nomenclature? as
say—
Pear;genus=Pyrus, under it
Pear, with its species;
Apple, 1. Common Apple,
2. Crab-Apple, etc.
There are formidable difficulties about this popular nomenclature, yet they
must be surmounted in some way or other.
As we are making much of English, why not say “rootstock” instead of
“rhizome.” I do not like French forms. I would even say “pod” instead of
“capsule,” in popular parlance.
Kindly send me proofs as you go on. I want much to see them.
Wright’s collections in North Pacific Expedition are here, and he is
turning over his Behring Straits collection and trying to work it out, with
some help from me. There is a Hongkong collection; there may be some of
these he would like to ask you to name, so far as you may off hand. The
Japan collection I will elaborate myself. There is not so much from the

north as I expected. They had no chance to explore the small islands
connecting with the Kurile Islands. I have only peeped into one or two
parcels; but in one I saw two things which will interest you as much as they
did me. Imagine the two most characteristic possible eastern United States
plants, Caulophyllum and Diphylleia, both, I believe, our very species. Tell
this to Dr. Hooker!
The only domestic news I have to tell you is, that on a hot August day
our beloved Newfoundland dog was found dead,—really a sad loss. To
console us my brother-in-law, a fortnight after, sent me a puppy of the same
breed, an uneasy, frolicsome, awkward fellow yet, but promising to be
intelligent and very handsome. We could not bear to give him the name of
his lamented predecessor; so Mrs. Gray named him Hans,—a souvenir of
Pontrilas....

Dr. Gray’s dogs and cats were always well-recognized members of the
family. He had a great love of animals, which was warmly returned by his
different pets. In his early married life the kittens he helped raise by feeding
them with a dropping-tube from his microscope rather preferred him to their
young and careless mother, and, confounding all other men with him, were
perpetually scrambling into laps, to the surprise of callers. Two grew into
fine cats, who demanded a regular attention and consideration from him,
reminding him by gentle taps, one on each side, when bedtime came.
Of his first dog, he always said that they stood more in the relation of
brothers than master and dog; and the dog felt a guardian care of him. The
different characters of his two Newfoundland dogs, and of the smaller ones
he had later, interested him, for they were singularly different, though both
the Newfoundlands shared his affection for a pretty Maltese cat who had
succeeded the other cats; they were especially fond of her kittens and
attentive to them, allowing them all sorts of liberties. The cats and dogs
always lived affectionately together. Dr. Gray always recognized their good
consciences, which varied somewhat with the different type of animal, and
considered that the size of different breeds had much to do with their
characteristics. They always learned to eat what their master did; not so
much, he would say, from any preference for oysters and dry toast, as that
they were ambitious to do as far as possible what he did.

He was very skillful in the handling of animals, and they recognized it in
allowing him to perform small surgical operations, to dress wounds, etc.,
with a touching trust and submission.

TO GEORGE BENTHAM.

March 9, 1858.
My dear Bentham,—Many thanks for yours of February 14. Although much
pleased to hear from you, I cannot expect to hear often, unless you have
something special to say. No one but Hooker can write long and frequent
letters while he is doing such a vast amount of work, and keeping up such a
fresh, and keen, and scrutinizing interest in such a great variety of subjects.
I wonder how he does it. How well oiled the machinery of his brain must be
to do it all without great wear and tear! If you or I had half these matters to
think of at once, we should go distracted. Warn Hooker to take good care of
himself and not break down in health. It is a facility which he inherits, that
of turning from one thing to another without loss of time or of working
power.
I shall be pleased to see the “Handbook” when it is out. Never mind
what people say. I dare say the little book will do a great deal of good....
I am glad you will distribute more of Spruce’s plants. I want especially
any of his Andes collections, for Baños was one of our Exploring
Expedition stations. I am going to finish up our Exploring Expedition this
year (D. V.), and have done with it. That and some other things done, and I
dream of coming over to England, and working at nothing but “North
American Flora,” de novo. I hope I may, and that I shall find you and Mrs.
B. as fresh as ever, and enjoying yourselves to the full....
April 26.
My last book[37] in elementary botany is now just off my hands, and will
be out in a fortnight. I hope it will be of use. Forgive me for writing horn-
books, and I am now done with that sort of work. There were several
convincing reasons for doing it.

TO DANIEL CADY EATON.[38]

February 23, 1858.

I dare say you may learn something here as to teaching, etc., if you can
pick it up yourself, which, after all, is the only way anything worth knowing
is obtained. But from now to the end of April I am just overwhelmed with
work, and shall have no time to give any special instruction.
At the opening of the term I begin my drilling of Sophomores in the
“Botanical Text-Book.” My lectures to a selection of Juniors, on Systematic
Botany, I do not ordinarily commence till April 1, but this year I am able to
begin early in March, though not much work is done till May. You might
attend Agassiz’s lectures, but he will not be back from Florida as soon as
the opening of the term.
Let me know how much instruction you have to give this year, and of
what sort, and I can see whether I can help you much. I dare say you will
teach very well.
There are certain little matters you might pick up about class illustration
and manipulation without it costing you much time. We were just thinking
of sending you Wright’s Hongkong ferns.
Suppose you come on, count as a pupil, or as a visitor, as you like, work
away as you think best, making preparations for your course, in which I will
help you all I can. And at the same time work up Wright’s Hongkong and
Bonin and Japan ferns (bring any books you want which I have not). I want
to drill you a little at systematic work, and think you will learn something
that way. Come straight here. We shall want you to stay with us, if the
house is empty. And if not we shall make no difficulty of sending you down
to the Brattle House. But it would be so much more convenient here.
I am very desirous that you should be duly established at Yale, and have
no doubt you will satisfy the college and fill the place with comfort and
credit.
We will talk over matters at odd moments when you come.
I shall be most glad to help you as a friend and fellow-worker; but I
cannot promise any special instruction, and shall take no fee. “Dog does not
eat dog,” is the saying, you know.

Judge Lowell writes, in 1888, “I was in college when Dr. Gray was
appointed to his professorship at Harvard, and ours was, I think, the first or
one of the first classes to whom he lectured. I remember his lectures well,

they were so full of knowledge and of enthusiasm and so calculated to
impress the young mind.
“I suppose he had not lectured much of late years; and in his many other
successes, his powers as a lecturer may have been overlooked by those who
have written of him.”
Dr. Rothrock, in his address before the memorial meeting of the
botanical section of the Academy at Philadelphia, speaks of Dr. Gray’s
patient drilling of him in writing his thesis, making him go over and over it
again, until it had been rewritten six times before he allowed him to be
satisfied with it. His pupils would always remember his comment when
satisfied,—“That is neatly stated.”
And Dr. Farlow shows the picturesque figure “hurrying down Garden
Street (on lecture mornings) so covered by the mass of branches and
flowers which were to illustrate the lecture that his head and body were
hardly visible.”[39]
“The few who gathered around the little table in Harvard Hall, in pursuit
of knowledge which did not count in the college reckoning, will never
forget the untiring patience with which he explained what then seemed
difficult, the contagious enthusiasm with which he led them on from simple
facts toward the higher fields of science, or the tender personal interest
which he showed in their hopes and half-formed plans for the future; an
interest which, on his part, only strengthened as years passed on, and makes
them now mourn, not so much the death of a great botanist as the loss of a
sympathizing friend.”[40]

TO W. J. HOOKER.

April 30, 1858.
I must tell you that in humble imitation of Kew, I am going to establish a
museum of vegetable products, etc., in our university.
The erection of a new building for the Museum of Comparative
Anatomy and for the Mineralogical Cabinet liberates the very fine hall used
for the Mineralogical Cabinet formerly. This I have applied for, and
obtained for my purposes, and am taking into it the various things I have
picked up from time to time. It is a room about forty-five feet long, with
deep alcoves the whole length of each side, already shelved, and with glass

doors to the cases, a window in each of the ten alcoves; the centre, or nave,
serves for my lecture-room. So now I shall beg all my students and
correspondents to send me every sort of vegetable thing; so if there is
anything you need still from this country you should let me know; and
whenever you are overrun with duplicate woods, etc., just think how
welcome such things would be here, and how they may stimulate our
collectors and travelers, who perchance may occasionally send me
something that would fill some gap in the Kew museum.
Mr. Wright is having a good training here, and when he goes again to
Cuba, or elsewhere, will do much better, both as to common botanical
specimens and for collecting vegetable products and curiosities.
Dr. A. A. Gould, who will bring a line to you, is a physician in Boston,
and one of our best zoölogists, especially in conchology, etc.; a most
excellent man. He takes a well-deserved holiday for three months or so,
mostly in a run over the Continent. He has London friends in plenty. He
may like to see Kew Gardens before one o’clock, and would be pleased to
pay his respects to you in person, if his time allows a flying visit to Kew
before he proceeds to the Continent.
Just at this moment, and since my parcel of books for you left the house,
the May number of “Silliman’s Journal” has come in. I will ask Dr. Gould
to take it to you....
June 21.
About the museum. Ours is to be not economical (except in the sense
that it must not cost anything to speak of) but for class illustration and
botanical research. So I want woods, fruits, seeds, etc., and must keep all
within narrow limits. All I could venture to ask from you is that whenever
your keeper or Dr. Hooker should be throwing out duplicates to save room,
you would have some such things boxed up for me. I should indeed like to
go over to you, and select for myself, as you and Dr. Hooker suggest.
Joseph suggests that I should be sent over by the university for the purpose!
His whole idea is as magnificent as my plan is humble. I fear I must always
travel and cross the ocean at my own charges. But the proposition suggests
to me that, when I am ready to revisit England, this will be a good ground
for asking leave of absence without cutting off my pay. But there is much to
be done before I can leave home again, and when I shall be ready and able
to do so, if it please Providence that I may be, I want two full years and

most of it at Kew. How I hope it may be done in your day, and that I may
receive your cordial greeting, and find you as hale and as actively useful as
ever. But “l’homme propose,” etc. We are delighted to hear from Mrs. E.
that you are well and strong again.
Boott kindly writes me of Brown by every mail; by the next arrival we
must expect to hear that he is no more....
Wherever Wright goes, you may rely upon the fullest set of his
gatherings, and we may expect they will be better than formerly. For (what I
never thought he would have patience for) he has really taken to studying
botany, which he never did before, and digs away at his dried specimens
most perseveringly. At first it went against the grain, and he used to wish
himself far off in the woods. But he has kept on for six or eight months, and
now generally prefers to find out a plant by his own skill, rather than have
me tell him what it is; so he will be able to collect more understandingly,
and the year passed here will not be lost time.

Dr. Robert Brown died shortly after the date of this letter. In Dr. Gray’s
memoir of him, he says:—
“Upon the death of Robert Brown, it was remarked that, next to
Humboldt, his name adorned the list of a greater number of scientific
societies than that of any other naturalist or philosopher. It was Humboldt
himself who, many years ago, saluted Brown with the appellation,
‘Botanicorum facile princeps,’ and the universal consent of botanists
recognized and confirmed the title.... Brown delighted to rise from a special
case to high and wide generalizations; and was apt to draw most important
and always irresistible conclusions from small selected data or particular
points of structure. He had unequaled skill in finding decisive instances....
So all his discoveries and all his notes and observations are fertile far
beyond the reader’s expectation. Perhaps no naturalist ever taught so much
in writing so little.... Those who knew him as a man will bear unanimous
testimony to the unvarying simplicity, truthfulness, and benevolence of his
character, as well as to the singular uprightness of his judgment.”[41]

TO R. W. CHURCH.

June 1, 1858.

Your gift of the “Oxford Essays” came to me, and was partly read with
much interest before the arrival of your kind letter of the 31st March. Many
thanks for both.
I know too little of French literature, early or late, but I admire your
article for its neat and delicate delineation and discrimination of character. I
read with interest, not unmingled with concern, Baden Powell’s and
Wilson’s articles. The latter person I heard preach one of the Bampton
lectures at Oxford, 1851. Into what will the latitudinarian school, if I may
so call it, develop at Oxford?
Gladstone’s article I have not had time to read yet, nor his large work,
which probably will reach us presently, through our book club,—I hope at a
time when I have more leisure than now.
Last week the publishers, at my request, sent to Trübner & Company,
American booksellers (12 or 20) Paternoster Row, a copy of a new and
more elementary book[42] of mine than the one you are pleased to
compliment. I intended that as a kind of horn-book, which Dr. Hooker
insists it is not; and as something more simple was wanted here, to lead the
way both to the “Lessons” and especially to the “Manual,” which is rather
strong for beginners, I have tried again, and you will see the result. I should
have made the little “Popular Flora” fuller if the publishers had allowed
more room.
Having last year reëdited my “Botanical Textbook” (of which, to
complete your set, a copy is also sent to you, through Trübner), I have now
done my part in elementary botanical writing, and I return with zest to my
drier investigations, in which I have much to do.
If I ever find time I am greatly disposed to write some day upon the
principles of classification,—the ground in nature for classification, the
nature and distribution and probable origin of species,—knotty points, upon
which I incline to differ decidedly from Agassiz, and considerably from the
common notions.
Some of the more immediate and best-established deductions I hope to
bring out in a paper I shall soon be occupied with, containing the results of
a comparison of the flora of Japan (in which I have new materials) with our
own of the United States of America.
My college work keeps me very busy at this season.

... I see no near prospect of revisiting the Old World. The commercial
troubles last autumn have reduced our moderate means and prospects a
little. But if I live I must yet have two years’ work in England and on the
Continent. With great regard, I remain,
Yours very faithfully,
Asa Gray.

TO JOHN TORREY.

July 27, 1858.
I have to-day received a nice present from Vilmorin of Paris, i. e., the
copy of Robert Brown’s “Prodromus,” presented by him to A. L. de Jussieu.
... I am kept here, too, by the attending suddenly to building a new
conservatory, for which a donation of $2,000 has been received. I cannot
leave till it is well under way.
I am deep in Japan botany; interesting results.
September 24.
At length we are home again, arriving night before last, very direct from
Quebec, where we had (as everywhere else upon our whole route—
Litchfield, New York, Palisades, Fairfield, Sauquoit, Montreal, etc.) a
delightful time. J. much stronger, except for a cold caught in Quebec, which
still lingers.
Colonel Munro[43] was very kind; is a jolly good fellow, as the English
say.

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

October 14, 1858.
By this time you are in your house, I hope, and all comfortable, and
ready soon to set to work.
I rejoice to hear that Mr. Shaw keeps up his zeal, and will make a
creditable establishment. I wish him all prosperity. If he will make and keep
up a general herbarium it will save you much time and money....
October 30.
I have yours of the 24th. Tatnall[44] is an old friend of Dr. Darlington,
new to me, but writing to me of late. I know not his age, profession,

character, etc., etc. But he appears to know the plants around him very
well....
Hope you are getting settled down and comfortable.
I met Agassiz at the Club. He is cordial and pleasant. He had not heard
of your return, which I wondered at....
Fendler is with you, at least in St. Louis. Short is ready to advance
something if he will fall to collecting again wherever you say. Get him
some appointment with the army at Utah. That is the place. What is the
good of your both being Democrats if you cannot get something for it!!
December 3.
Darwin asks me to find out if you medical men have ascertained or
noticed any difference in liability to take fevers of warm climates, say
yellow fever, between light-complexioned and dark-complexioned people
of the Caucasian race. If you know personally anything about it, or where
anything is published bearing on the point, kindly let me know, and oblige
Your old friend,
Asa Gray.

TO GEORGE BENTHAM.

December 13, 1858.
Boott writes in glowing terms of your paper on British flora and
distribution lately read; and I hope soon to read it in the “Linnæan Journal.”
That the interchange of temperate species between North America and
Europe has taken place via Asia is now a patent fact; and now the whole
subject, and the probable explanation, begins to be clear to see.
December 31.
A happy New Year to you and Mrs. Bentham, and many thanks for your
letter promising me your paper on Hongkong plants to print here. Pray give
me passim any notes that occur to you upon Loo Choo plants, etc. I shall
now soon be done with my Japan studies, and shall print a paper bringing to
view curious facts of distribution, etc., and lay out a set for the Kew
herbarium. How true it is, as you intimated, that the interchange in northern
hemisphere has mainly been via Asia.

I heartily admire your “Handbook,” and await with great interest your
paper growing out of it; your experience is so great and your judgment so
sound. As to English nomenclature, we can only approximate to a good
system; the practical difficulties are too great, often insurmountable. It
seems to me you hit the happy medium, if we must needs have popular
name of the genus coëxtensive with the Latin one; but I rather doubt the
advisability of that, and would use sub-generic popular names for generic, I
think. Though “I do not much like” the whole thing, yet somebody must
attend to English nomenclature, for better or worse; so I am glad you took it
up.
I hope you will study perigynous and epigynous. As to ovary, which,
putting the important part for the whole, we have learned to use in place of
pistil, it certainly is perfectly novel to me to hear the name applied to the
gynæcium of Ranunculus. I am confident the word is never so used in De
Candolle or Endlicher. I do not recall any instance of your using the word in
any such sense; I am sure I never did. Where the fact of the combination is
doubtful or ambiguous, if I said ovary, that would infer the combination; if
ovaries, the distinctness. In Apocynaceæ A. De Candolle steadily writes
ovarium or ovaria, according to the nature of the case. Per contra, you
might as well call the column of Malva a stamen! For the collective term, I
wish, in your paper, you would go for restoring to use the Linnæan term
pistillum, and against the habit of using ovarium in a double sense, that is,
sometimes for whole female organ, sometimes for its ovule-bearing portion.
Pray do not add a third; and so when you speak of ovary in Clematis leave
us to gather, from the context, whether you mean, (1) the whole gynæcium;
(2) a separate pistil; or, (3) the ovuliferous portion of a pistil.
Hooker calls my judgment about root and radicle “a flippant snub”! I
beg a thousand pardons, and had no intention to be flippant or dogmatical,
but simply to record a fact. For mistake, pray read take. My thanks for his
letter of December 8th; will write him soon.
February 2, 1859.
I wish I had now your paper on geographical distribution, while I am
working up the relations of the Japan flora in this respect. Where is
Agardh’s paper published, and what does it amount to?...
I cannot answer Dr. Hooker’s exceedingly interesting letter about
theoretical ancient distribution of plants this week. Tell him I shall have

some evidence which will come well into his views as to north temperate
zone.

TO W. J. HOOKER.

January 24, 1859.
I hope soon to hear that Government will acquire your herbarium, and
make bountiful provision for its increase and maintenance. After all
Brown’s genius, you have done more for botany than a dozen Browns, and
made a hundredfold more sacrifices and efforts. To you, and to your son,
England and the botanical world owe the greatest debt of gratitude,—a debt
which I hope will continue to accumulate a long time yet....

TO JOHN TORREY.

January 7, 1859.
My dear Friend,—I will send your bundles presently, after Tuesday next, till
when I must work like a dog, to get through the Japan collection, and read a
paper on Tuesday at a social meeting of the Academy at Mr. Loring’s house
that evening (January 11th). Now come on (if by day train), stop there, 8
Ashburton Place, where I will be.
I am going to hold forth for nearly an hour, upon Japan botany in its
relation to ours and the rest of the northern temperate zone, and knock out
the underpinning of Agassiz’s theories about species and their origin; show,
from the very facts that stumbled De Candolle, the high probability of
single and local creation of species, turning some of Agassiz’s own guns
against him.
I introduced it here at Club, last month, and Agassiz took it very well,
indeed....
I asked Thurber the name of a couple of Grasses. Let the Grass-man
speak; now that he is turned out to grass, let him attend to his grazing.
February 19.
Andersson writes me that I am chosen one of the six botanists on the
foreign list of Stockholm Academy, to fill the vacancy caused by Robert
Brown’s death.
Friday evening, [April].

I have your two favors of 12th and 15th. I am very grateful for the nice
care you take of my wife. You seem to have her under very thorough
control.
Cure her up fast as you can, and please return her per railway on the 3d
of May; for the 4th being the eleventh anniversary of our union, we must
not be separated then—“The Union, it must be preserved.” ...
I send back your Cavendish with many thanks.
The old cock was much like Robert Brown in many respects. Though
there is nothing in him to love, he calls out a sort of admiration, partly in
the literal sense, that is, wonder, mixed with pity, that he had no feelings.
Brown had, and besides he was social and not so very queer, but he lived
very much in the same way, and I suppose had as little sense of religion.
Schreber spells Anthephora, but gives no derivation. P. de B., you see,
does, so Anthephora is doubtless right.
Can that and Buffalo-grass be the same? I doubt. Has the Anthephora-
like plant no stamens of its own?
The mode of growth does not so much distinguish your plant from
Newberry’s Hemitones, and verily I suspect they are the same species. Pity
you come in and spoil a good name!...

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

April 27, 1859.
I am charmed at the intelligence you give of your son, and that he takes
to botany with spirit, so that he may continue the celebrity of the honored
name of De Candolle in the third generation.
We shall welcome him when he comes to America and will do all we can
to advance his objects. Oregon and the country to the north of it (British
Columbia) will be in good and safe condition to explore, and I am
convinced that there is still much to find in the Sandwich Islands, especially
in the interior of Hawaii, where there is said to be a broad, almost
untrodden, wooded region, between the principal mountain-masses, and
occupying a good part of the interior of the island. But it will take time,
patience, and considerable means to explore this region; provisions must be
carried in for a long way, and many natives employed in feeding the
exploring party. Next, the Kurile Islands, and all the northern part of Japan,

Yesso, and the islands northeast of it offer the greatest interest; Manchuria
also, but the Russians will look after that; Korea could perhaps be explored,
so that the expedition you have suggested strikes my fancy as the best that
could be, and would take your son through regions full of interest, safe to
explore, and healthy. Certainly I can suggest nothing better.
Pray give my best regards to M. Boissier and to other friends in Geneva.
I trust you will have safety and tranquillity in Switzerland. But it appears as
if you would have war all around you,—a very sad state of things. Our
latest intelligence looks very warlike, I am sorry to see. With all my heart I
join in the supplication, “Give peace in our time, O Lord.” From such a war
as is threatened no good can spring, in any result....
Ever and very cordially yours,
Asa Gray.

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

May 18, 1859.
Well, even $10,000 a year is much better than nothing for the botanical
establishment. I wish we had half of that....
If Shaw will be liberal in his establishment, why not turn over to him
your general herbarium? If I had one I could have free access to always, I
would not take the expense and trouble of keeping up and increasing one
myself....
So, you have made the capital discovery, and proved the so-called
Anthephora to be the female of Buffalo-grass. I would not have believed it
without direct evidence.
I cannot study it; it would take me a long while to get the case so before
me that my opinion about the affinities of the grass would be of any use; but
it is most interesting, and I beg you to work it out in detail and
thoroughly....
June 6.
As to your own herbarium, I think you are right for the present. Keep
you own; arrange it on paper of the size of Shaw’s. But look to an eventual
combination, either in Shaw’s lifetime or soon after, and be open to
propositions from Shaw; as, for example, to take your whole herbarium,
provide for maintenance and increase, and when ready, to make you

director of the whole concern. This duty must devolve upon you, and when
it does, with a decent salary, you could reside up there, throw physic to the
dogs, or only take a share in consultations, and have time to do yourself
justice in botany.
Meanwhile, if Shaw would take your herbarium upon proper terms, you
might at any time have any particular families of plants with you, in your
house, to work at....
Mr. Shaw has lately written. I inclose his letter to you. I have just replied
to it, expressing a lively interest in his projected establishment, and offering
my best services if he requires them in the way of advice or suggestion. I
hope it will be all right in the end....

CHAPTER VI.

LETTERS TO DARWIN AND OTHERS.

1860-1868.

As before stated, Dr. Gray’s letters to Dr. Darwin previous to 1862 have
been destroyed, save the one dated January 23, 1860, which was published
in Darwin’s “Life and Letters,” and is here reproduced for the convenience
of the reader, as well as Dr. Gray’s letter of January 5, 1860, to Dr. Joseph
D. Hooker, also published in Darwin’s “Life and Letters.” The original
letters to Darwin later than 1862 have been more or less injured, apparently
by the ravages of mice, so that in copying them it has sometimes been
necessary to supply missing words. Where these are not obvious, the
supposed words are enclosed in brackets.
The letters in this chapter also include the period of the civil war; into
which, as they show, Dr. Gray threw himself with all his earnestness. He
helped as far as he was able in every way. A company of the men who were
too old or otherwise incapacitated from going to the front was enlisted in
Cambridge to guard the State Arsenal there, and also to be ready to be
summoned in any emergency; and he joined the ranks and was faithful in
the drilling and every duty to which they were called. It is hard to realize, in
these days, how all the community worked together in all possible ways; it
was the business of life.

TO J. D. HOOKER.

Cambridge, January 5, 1860.
My dear Hooker,—Your last letter, which reached me just before Christmas,
has got mislaid during the upturnings in my study which take place at that
season, and has not yet been discovered. I should be very sorry to lose it,
for there were in it some botanical mems. which I had not secured....
The principal part of your letter was high laudation of Darwin’s book.

Well, the book has reached me, and I finished its careful perusal four
days ago; and I freely say that your laudation is not out of place.
It is done in a masterly manner. It might well have taken twenty years to
produce it. It is crammed full of most interesting matter, thoroughly
digested, well expressed, close, cogent; and taken as a system it makes out a
better case than I had supposed possible....
I will write to Darwin when I get a chance. As I have promised, he and
you shall have fair play here.... I must myself write a review of Darwin’s
book for “Silliman’s Journal” (the more so that I suspect Agassiz means to
come out upon it) for the next (March) number, and I am now setting about
it when I ought to be every moment working the Exploring Expedition
Compositæ, which I know far more about. And really it is no easy job, as
you may well imagine.
I doubt if I shall please you altogether. I know I shall not please Agassiz
at all. I hear another reprint is in the press, and the book will excite much
attention here, and some controversy....

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

Cambridge, January 23, 1860.
My dear Darwin,—You have my hurried letter telling you of the arrival of
the remainder of the sheets of the reprint, and of the stir I had made for a
reprint in Boston. Well, all looked pretty well, when lo, we found that a
second New York publishing house had announced a reprint also! I wrote
then to both New York publishers, asking them to give way to the author
and his reprint of a revised edition. I got an answer from Harpers that they
withdraw; from the Appletons, that they had got the book out (and the next
day I saw a copy); but that, “if the work should have any considerable sale,
we certainly shall be disposed to pay the author reasonably and liberally.”
The Appletons being thus out with their reprint, the Boston house
declined to go on. So I wrote to the Appletons, taking them at their word,
offering to aid their reprint, to give them the use of the alterations in the
London reprint, as soon as I find out what they are, etc., etc. And I sent
them the first leaf, and asked them to insert in their future issue the
additional matter from Butler,[45] which tells just right. So there the matter

stands. If you furnish any matter in advance of the London third edition, I
will make them pay for it.
I may get something for you. All got is clear gain; but it will not be very
much, I suppose.
Such little notices in the papers as have yet appeared are quite handsome
and considerable.
I hope next week to get printed sheets of my review from New Haven,
and send them to you, and will ask you to pass them on to Dr. Hooker.
To fulfill your request, I ought to tell you what I think the weakest, and
what the best, part of your book. But this is not easy, nor to be done in a
word or two. The best part, I think, is the whole, that is, its plan and
treatment, the vast amount of facts and acute inferences handled as if you
had a perfect mastery of them. I do not think twenty years too much time to
produce such a book in.
Style clear and good, but now and then wants revision for little matters
(p. 97, self-fertilizes itself, etc.).
Then your candor is worth everything to your cause. It is refreshing to
find a person with a new theory who frankly confesses that he finds
difficulties, insurmountable at least for the present. I know some people
who never have any difficulties to speak of.
The moment I understood your premises, I felt sure you had a real
foundation to hold on. Well, if one admits your premises, I do not see how
he is to stop short of your conclusions, as a probable hypothesis at least.
It naturally happens that my review of your book does not exhibit
anything like the full force of the impression the book has made upon me.
Under the circumstances I suppose I do your theory more good here, by
bespeaking for it a fair and favorable consideration, and by standing
noncommitted as to its full conclusion, than I should if I announced myself
a convert; nor could I say the latter, with truth.
Well, what seems to me the weakest point in the book is the attempt to
account for the formation of organs, the making of eyes, etc., by natural
selection. Some of this reads quite Lamarckian.
The chapter on Hybridism is not a weak, but a strong chapter. You have
done wonders there. But still you have not accounted, as you may be held to
account, for divergence up to a certain extent producing increased fertility

of the crosses, but carried one short, almost imperceptible, step more,
giving rise to sterility, or reversing the tendency. Very likely you are on the
right track; but you have something to do yet in that department.
Enough for the present.
I am not insensible to your compliments, the very high compliment
which you pay me in valuing my opinion. You evidently think more of it
than I do, though from the way I write to you, and especially to Hooker, this
might not be inferred from the reading of my letters.
I am free to say that I never learnt so much from one book as I have from
yours. There remain a thousand things I long to say about it.
Ever yours,
Asa Gray.

TO CHARLES L. BRACE.

1861 (?)
Dear Brace,—I should criticise various things in your last “Times” article,
if you were here to talk it over with me.
If you expected Huxley to do what you criticise him for not doing, you
would naturally be disappointed. His merit, and his way as a lecturer, is to
select some good topic or point of view and make a clear exposition of it,
the clearness of which very much depends upon his not scattering himself
over too much ground. He naturally kept himself to matters he could handle
well, and let alone those upon which, as we very well know, he had nothing
in particular to say.
1. “Merest fancies,” “baseless fabric of a dream,” etc.
Why, what made Owen an evolutionist as early as Darwin? And what
has made so many naturalists, Mivart, and lately Dana, for instance,
evolutionists, who yet think nothing of Natural Selection?
But to illustrate. You allow that the evolutionary pedigree of the horse is
made out. But what had “Natural Selection” to do with the making this out?
It would have been all the very same, both the evidence and the ground
of the inference, if Natural Selection had never been propounded. There is
no evidence how the forms were selected, there is simply the fact of the
series of forms, which, with other like evidence, brings conviction to most
naturalists that one has somehow come from the other. And this conviction

is about as strong to those who do not believe “Natural Selection” will
explain it, as those who do.
2. Professor Guyot, you mean. Dana avowedly adopts from Guyot.
3. To those who talk or think of necessary evolution, or, like Spencer,
deduce it ex necessitate rei, this matter of immense time is very pertinent. I
don’t think Darwin is bothered by it much. On my way of thinking, it is no
bother at all, considering what a deal of time there has been anyway.
4. Do you mean “hybrid forms”? I fail to see what hybrids, that is, mules
from the crossing of related species, has to do with it, one way or the other.
Nobody (of clear conceptions) supposes new species come from the
mixture of other species. That is a way to confuse or blend species, not to
originate them. But there is no “want of hybrids;” there are plenty of them,
and they have mixed some few species (dogs, for instance); but they play
no important part in the matters you are considering.
“Want of connecting forms in living species,” that is to the purpose.
Well, as a systematic botanist, I wish there was a want. The connecting
forms are my great trouble every day. You would save me an awful deal of
trouble, time, and constant uncertainty, if you would cause them to be
wanting!
5. So you will not accept the motto “ex uno disce omnes.”
If you admit the horse’s evolution as proved, does not that carry an
implication of evolution in other lines, of which similar, but fewer steps are
known? Or are all evolutions those of cavalry?
Cambridge, June 17, 1862.
Dear Brace,—Thanks for the “World.” Who wield its destinies?
It is, I suppose, your article on Darwin, a very good one, for its purpose
and space.
Before you too confidently reject the evidence for the existence of man
in the diluvial period, just turn over a very impartial and good article by
Pictet,—a good judge of such matters,—in the March number of the
“Bibliothèque Universelle de Genève,” “De la Question sur l’Homme
Fossile.”
I presume it is in the Astor Library. If it is not, you may tell Mr.
Cogswell there might as well not be any Astor Library.

Ever thine,
A. Gray.
Cambridge, April 22, 1862 (?)
Dear Brace,—You are very welcome to such casual criticism as I can offer
on your two pages of manuscript.
The general fact of a segregated people (or individuals of an animal
species) becoming best adapted to the particular climate, etc., through
Natural Selection is clear enough, the best adapted alone surviving in the
long run, and the peculiarities transmitted by the close breeding.
But what your statements tend to make out is, not the tendency of a
human race to return to its original type, but only the tendency of the causes
which produced a certain effect once, to produce it again, the circumstances
continuing,—to produce it in the Fellahs as it produced it in the remote
ancestors of the Pharaohs.
That is all safe enough. But your case does not prove that unless you
make out that the Egyptian race was nearly destroyed by crossings.
I do not know, but I doubt if you can show that the crossings were ever
enough to modify the Egyptian people, at least the common people, who
make up the bulk. Slight infusions, you see, would be worked out. The
foreign though conquering race would be less prolific and less enduring
than the native, etc., etc. So is it not likely that in the Fellahs you have the
representatives of the old Egyptians continued, not reproduced, as your
remarks would partly lead one to suppose your meaning?
Besides, once having got a race you must not make too much of climate,
to the overlooking of the wonderful persistence of any variety when close
bred. See the Jews: the nose remains hooked, etc., under all climates.
Again, in your last sentence. When you unscientific people take up a
scientific principle you are apt to make too much of it, to push it to
conclusions beyond what is warranted by the facts. But, because a particular
race has persisted in Egypt, how do you know that it is the only race
capable of perpetuating itself?
If there had been a large infusion of different people in Egypt, and if they
had exterminated the old race, do you not suppose this would have
established itself, perpetuated itself, and that its particular adaptations to the
climate would have been different from that of the present race?

If you cut off all future immigration into North America, would the
Indians resume possession of the country? or else our descendants become a
copper-colored race?
Enough for the present. When you have cracked these nuts, send me, if
you please, another sheet.
Ever yours cordially,
Asa Gray.
Cambridge, July 6, 1863.
Dear Brace,—Yours of 20th ult. came just as J. was off for New Haven
and I getting ready to go to her aid.
We came back only on Thursday, or rather Friday morning. My hands so
full that I could not write to Darwin, to whom I owe a long letter, till to-
night. I will now inclose your note.
It would be very like a chemist to think that external influences will
explain everything. But I presume he believes that peculiarities are
heritable. If he does, then he thinks he can explain, or will be able to
explain, the origination of variations. I cannot, that is, to any extent, and do
not expect to. When he will show us how external influences actually
worked to change a peach into a nectarine, I will consider his proposition.
If he means by “external influences” whatever has brought about the
change, very well. I, of course, allow that every variation has a cause, a
physical cause. But it seems to me you may as well say that conception and
the production of a normal offspring is the result of “external influences” as
the production of an abnormal (variant) offspring.
But there is no use writing at random.
You ask me whether I adhere to my notions before expressed, without at
all showing me how they have been impugned.
I should rather expect Guyot to indorse Beaumont; a theological bias
would act strongly.
But I rely most on Lartet, Coulon, and Pictet, for the age of deposit. Yet
it may still be an open question....
Darwin, on account of his health, has to live away from London, and is a
recluse. I give no letters to him, least of all to a lively inquisitive Yankee
like Beecher, who would give him a fit of dyspepsia at once, from mere
excitement.

I have the Imperial Academy of Sciences of St. Petersburg honorary
membership; quite a feather, as they are choice and few. Diploma just come.
Ever yours,
A. Gray.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

May 7, 1861.
It was very good of you to write to me (by your letter of 28th of March)
when I believe that a former letter of yours was still unacknowledged by
me. Your letters always give me much pleasure.
What you say of “Essays and Reviews” seems to me most sensible and
well considered; the best thing I have read about the book, viz., that, “with
many good and true things in it, it is a reckless book,” and that some of the
writers had not taken the trouble to clear up their own thoughts and to form
orderly and consistent notions before publishing upon such delicate topics.
I have not yet read the book; have only looked it over, and read some of
the criticisms. When I have a few days’ leisure in the country, in July, I
mean to read it carefully. After the flurry is over, I hope the book will
receive the proper kind of handling in England, by the proper men. I wish
you would think it in your way to write an essay upon some of the points at
issue, upon which inconsiderate views are likely to be taken upon either
side.
I confess to a strong dislike of Baden Powell’s writings. He seems to
have had a coarse, materialistic, non-religious mind; at least, he is not the
sort of man I should select to illustrate the delicate relations between
religion and science.
I am gratified, also, by your apprehending the spirit and object of my
essay[46] on Darwin so much better than many who write to me about it. All
it pretends to is to warn the reckless and inconsiderate to state the case as it
is; to protest against the folly of those who would, it would seem, go on to
fire away the very ramparts of the citadel, in the defense of needless
outposts; and, as you justly remark, to clear the way for a fair discussion of
the new theory on its merits and evidence. We must use the theory a while
in botany and in zoölogy, and see how it will work; in this way a few years
will test it thoroughly. I incline to think that its principles will be to a

certain extent admitted in science, but that, as Darwin conceives it, it will
prove quite insufficient.
As to our country, we have been, as a people, undergoing a steady
demoralization for the last fifteen or twenty years, the natural end of which
lately seemed to be that we should crumble into decay almost without an
effort at recovery. If it had been sought under legal forms and in a less
outrageous spirit, I think the North would have consented to the peaceful
separation of the cotton States, and we should have prospered by the
separation. But it has become clear that there would be no living with such
a people as our neighbors would be, so long as they allow themselves
(against the better judgment of the best) to be ruled by the political
demagogues who now hold sway over them. It is clear we must fight, and
we had better do it now, and fight for the integrity of the country and the
enforcement of the laws. So we are fairly and justly in it, and we are going
to conquer the South. They have appealed to force. They must abide the
consequences of the appeal, and, we trust, God will help the right. So you
may expect to hear of stirring times here. Ever, with great regard,
Yours most cordially,
Asa Gray.

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

January 25, 1861.
The Union is overthrown by a conspiracy which would have been kept
within bounds, and soon shut itself up, if the border slave States cared
enough for the Union to take hold, or even allow it to be arrested or
checked. But no, they must become insane, like the rest, and help it along.
Virginia will not take hold and second Kentucky and Tennessee, fighting
nobly by Johnson, Crittenden, etc., declare against treason first, and then
arrange terms, which are all ready, all they want, for composing the
difficulties.
But Cottondom will not have peace and union, and Virginia, etc., are
foolish enough to help their game. That the border Southern States will be
the principal sufferers will be only a righteous retribution for their guilt.
If, in fact, we only belong to a partnership which any of the partners can
dissolve at will, then the Union is not worth having. We must do the best we
can without it, and if Missouri would prosper, she should stay with us.

If peace is wanted, the reasonable proposition, “no more territory to be
acquired without a majority of two thirds of the States,” would give it. With
that you may do what you like, or rather what you can, in the present
Territories. No more of the continent is worth having, either for North or
South.
Posterity will judge rightly, and Toombs, Cobb, Floyd, etc., will go down
to their graves as base, dishonored traitors.
My fighting days are over, anyway. I have had the misfortune to lose the
end of my left thumb, by an accident, just at the base of the nail.
May 25, 1861.
I am very glad to hear from you. I believe I have a former letter from
you unanswered. Lately I mailed to you some botanical pamphlets, one
containing the Xantus California plants.[47] But in these times I had not the
heart to write you. You have seen your dream of peace policy fall in pieces,
and Douglas coming out for the war. You have also seen enough to perceive
that under the let-alone policy Missouri also would have seceded, under the
same discipline which has been applied elsewhere. In which event, let
alone, St. Louis would dwindle to a country village.
No, the first and paramount duty of a country is to protect and preserve
itself against destruction. The Constitution and government must be
maintained, and treason put down if we are able to do it.
If it can’t be done, then, and then only, may we submit to disintegration.
Stick firm to the Union, and Missouri will come out well. I am sorry for
the bloodshed at St. Louis. Your population is hard to manage. But Harney,
as you say, is doing well, and I expect to see your State soon a loyal one.
Even those with secession affinities must soon see their own interests. It is
impossible there should be peace,—peace is not worth having till the
rebellion, based on a plot formed years ago, is put down.
If you think me belligerent, I am nothing to Agassiz. Of course we shall
all suffer severely. But better to suffer in devotion to the Union than prosper
in petty fragments.
Enough of this. May God preserve and keep you, and let us hear from
you when you can; for we take great interest in you, and know your position
is a trying one.
Cambridge, August 6, 1861.

My dear Engelmann,—As soon as I got clear of college work, my wife and I
started off (on the 12th of July) to visit my mother and friends in Oneida
County, New York, where we rode and drove about in the fine air, over a
most beautiful country, and enjoyed ourselves to the full, to her great
advantage; also mine. Then we cut across the State to Pennsylvania, visited
the coal region of north Pennsylvania; traveled very leisurely; passed
through New York, seeing the Torreys three hours, and so to Litchfield,
Connecticut, where Mrs. G. is left, and I am at home, to set to work again,
having done nothing in botany except to teach since last April.
Now I am going to set to work as soon as correspondence is cleared off.
I found here also a letter from Dr. Parry,[48] and have named the
specimens in both, sending the answer to you for forwarding, also Dr.
Parry’s letter to me.
He can’t miss it if he keeps at work between Denver and Salt Lake,
climbing to truly alpine regions as often as he can.
Dr. Hooker sent me last spring a fine cast of a bust of Robert Brown. To-
day I have also from him a splendid one of his father, Sir William. Tell
Fendler that Mr. Shaw should procure both if possible for the Library of
Hort. Bot., Missouri.
What next? A young gardener has found a locality of Calluna vulgaris,
covering almost an acre, within twenty-five miles of Boston; a case to add
to Scolopendrium, Marsilea, etc., but most of all, striking and unexpected. It
grows in low ground, and has every appearance of being indigenous.
August 27.
I hope and trust that Frémont will be strong enough to keep the war out
of your neighborhood. The citizens of Missouri ought to volunteer in such
numbers as to keep the rebels out of the State and keep the State true and
firm in the Union. It is the cheapest and most honorable way, and will save
property, avoid distress, etc.
This rebellion is certainly going to be put down, no matter at what cost,
and property at St. Louis will be worth more than ever yet before you and I
reach three score and ten.
November 11.
I think very little of Unionists who have been “made Secessionists” by
anything. What matter whether you have one fifth, one tenth, or four fifths

Unionists, if they will not fight to put down Secessionists,—they might as
well be Secessionists out and out. Maryland and Missouri will not and must
not be allowed to secede or to do seceders’ work, cost what it will. And it is
a great blessing to them that we restrain them. The Union must be
preserved; suffering is a very small matter in comparison—all must take
their part, and the rebels must suffer hard till they give up. We are only
beginning to fight. If Missouri wanted security she should have put down
her secessionists herself with the strong hand, at the beginning. So of
Kentucky. But she has been forced to find out and feel her duty and her
honor, and to act.
God save the Union, and confusion to all traitors.

TO DANIEL CADY EATON.

Cambridge, October 4, 1861.
Your three parcels and letter of October first have duly come. I believe I
never answered your note of August 28.
I can’t abide writing letters nowadays. But I think often of you. You are
happy in being able to do something direct. I wish I could. Find me a useful
place in the army, and I will go at once.
My wife and I have scraped up $550, all we can scrape, and lent it to the
United States. I am amazed that people do not come forward with their
money—those that can’t go to fight. I wish I could do both....
I have to-day a letter from Wright, September 4. He is of late botanizing
with more spirit than formerly.
A sailing-vessel is up here for Santiago. I shall write by it, the United
States mail by steamer being so interrupted, and perhaps send some
publications, newspapers, etc. But I shall leave for you to send the “Flora of
the British West Indies,” as you suggest. I could not spare my copy....
I hope this taking up of large transport vessels means something, and
something prompt and thorough.
Thus far one is sick and sad, so little is done.
I had some hopes that your good father would be put at the head of the
Commissary Department. I trust he will get promotion somewhat according
to his deserts anyhow. Oh for faithful and honest officers and officials!...

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

Cambridge, January 15, 1862.
I do not like to write to you much about the war, and that is much reason
why I have not sooner replied to yours of December 9.
My brother-in-law and his cousin are both officers in Burnside’s
expedition, which we expect will do something.
Mrs. Gray and I send warmest New Year greetings to you and Mrs. E.,
and hope you may feel all right and country safe in 1863.
February 20.
Bravo for Illinois, to which victory at Fort Donelson is due, and bravo
for Tennessee and Alabama full of Union men! Does not your old Union
blood rise? Pray, now drop all your let-treason-alone, do-nothing-
disorganizing notions, and go in for the country, the whole country, reinstate
it first, and then we will all go in and make it what it should be. The
ungenerous conduct of England shows what a condition we should be in as
a fraction, and she playing off one portion against the other, and bullying
both.
I pray Congress to put on taxes, five per cent direct on property and
income, and heavy indirect besides. What is property! I would fight till
every cent is gone, and would offer my own life freely; so I do not value the
lives or property of rebels above my own. God bless you.
May 22.
A most lovely spring here. We all flourish and prosper, and rejoice in the
strengthening of our national power, and advancing restoration of the
Union, with hopes of hanging leaders of the rebellion, exiling a good many,
and pardoning all the rank and file who will come back with a good grace to
their allegiance. If they will not, let them beware! Væ victis to such.
The country is to be kept in the Union. If the people choose to stay, let
them, and peace be with them. If they wish to emigrate, very well. The
North, aided by immigrating Teutons, has great colonizing power, and we
can rapidly settle Virginia, Tennessee, Mississippi, etc.
There, this is enough for the present to rile you.
As to Euphorbias, the published names here must take precedence to
unpublished names of Shuttleworth, etc.
Ever your most peaceful friend,

Asa Gray.

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

Cambridge, October 10, 1860.
Thanks for very interesting letter of September 10. I am much pressed
now, or would write a long gossiping letter. The bound copy of “Origin” is
just received from Murray. Many thanks....
I believe I have seen a pod or two of Horseradish; but they are rare. Your
germinations show curious resemblance of dimorphic-crosses with hybrid-
crosses, as shown by Naudin; very interesting and capital points for you.
January (?), 1862.
I imagine it is now universally felt here that if we do not do it [i. e., carry
on the fighting] we shall have to eat much dirt; that the establishment of a
rival power on our long southern line of the free States, to be played off
against us, is not to be submitted to if it can be prevented at any sacrifice.
God help us, indeed, if our honorable existence is to have no better
safeguard than the generosity or sense of justice of more powerful nations!
As to slavery, the course of things is getting to meet your views, as it is
clear must be, if the South continues obstinate. If they give up war they may
save their institution in their own States, to have the chance of abolishing it
themselves in the only safe and easy way, with time and the gradual
competition of white labor. But obstinate resistance will surely bring on
wide-sweeping manumission.
You see that we are not going to have war [with England] at present. And
it appears that the decision of our government will be as unitedly and
thoroughly sustained by the whole people as if it had been the other way;
contrary to Mr. Russell’s prediction, and to our dear friend Dr. Boott’s, who
writes about our “mob” in a way he would not if he were here to see. Look
at an English mob urging up their government so that they felt obliged to
back up their demands, with a menacing force on our borders; and making
such a peremptory demand as you justly say, “entirely on Wilkes’ acting as
judge;” a matter which our government would as promptly concede as
yours could ask.
Seemann[49] wrote me that the general belief at the clubs and in the City
was that our government wanted to get into war with England for an excuse

to give up the South. A pretty idea they must have of our wisdom and
discretion! Dear Boott is firmly convinced that we have all along been
trying to quarrel with England. The belief here is nearly universal the other
way, and those who like England best, and perhaps the coolest and best-
informed men, have been more and more dissatisfied as time went on.
What has caused this lamentable state of things, this complete
misunderstanding? Plainly this: the secessionists in England have adroitly
managed the matter and led public opinion in various lines, but all in one
direction, inimical to us; and they did not think it too great a stretch to make
John Bull believe that we were insane enough to want an English quarrel. In
this they have been ably seconded by a few papers here, mainly by those
whose loyalty is deeply suspected, and whose influence is as nothing;
which are nearly as scurrilous as the “Saturday Review,” with no redeeming
ability, and you have the result.
Will the evidence that this mail carries satisfy the English that we want
to live in peace with them?
But as to good feeling, I am afraid it is too late to expect that.
We were hurt at first by your putting our rebels on the same footing as a
government with which yours was in most amicable relations,—and by the
general assumption at once that we were gone past redemption, by the
failure to see that the power had gone from the hands of those who were
always making trouble with your government in some petty way or other,
etc., till I think it is generally believed that the governing influence in
England desires to have us a weak and divided people, and would do a good
deal to secure it.
I am sorry to say that this is the general feeling; and this is now very
much intensified.
The feelings of many are very hostile, and they would like to be strong
that they might show it. Those of others, who have been exceedingly fond
of England, always defending her when possible, and these are mine, are,
that we must be strong to be secure and respected,—natural selection
quickly crushes out weak nations; that we have tried long enough to have
intimate relations between the governments, or the peoples in general.
Naturalists, etc., being enlightened people, can be as intimate as they like;
but nationally let each say, “God bless you, and let us see as little of each
other as possible,” each going our own way.

Well, enough of this.
Some of the representations of us in the English papers would be
amusing if they did not now do so great harm. One would think it was
generally thought that there was no law and order here, nor gentlemanly
conduct, nor propriety of deportment among the poorer and laboring
people. I wish you could come and see. As to such things, and as to
intelligence, education, etc., I have sometimes thought of the picture one
could draw from individual cases. Take one—very confidentially—for I
would not hurt a really good fellow by exposing his ignorance of what he
might be expected to know. Here we lately had a Cambridge graduate (F. L.
S., and godson of an English baronet) who in one conversation let us know
most frankly that he had no idea where Quito was, or that there were two
houses of Congress in the United States, and was puzzled to know whether
Boston, United States, time was faster or slower than that of Greenwich!...
February 18, 1862.
Accept a hasty line at the present, when I am busy above measure.
Thanks for the Primula paper, which I have barely looked over.
I do hope that you and the other fourteen of your household are out of
bed and done with influenza.
As I have not given you up notwithstanding your very shocking
principles and prejudices against design in nature, so we shall try to abide
your longitudinarian defection. I suppose it is longitude, and I am sorry to
see that there is a wide and general desire in that meridian that we (United
States) should fall to pieces. But the more you want us to, the more we
won’t, and the more important it appears to us that we should be a strong
and unbroken power. God help us, if we do not keep strong enough, at
whatever cost now it may be, to resist the influence of a country which
looks upon the continuation of our steady policy to protect and diversify our
domestic industry as a wrong and sin against it. No, no, we must have our
own way. But the triumph of the Republicans was the political destruction
of the very people who were always making trouble with England, and, if
you would only let us and have some faith in the North, we should have
been permanently on the best of terms.
What you complain of in the Boston dinner[50] was indeed lamentable;
such men should not have talked bosh, even at a little private ovation, and
we have reason to know some of them were heartily ashamed of it as soon

as they saw it in print. It was immediately spoken of here, by influential
people, some of whom refused to attend the dinner, and in at least one
paper, in a tone like your own. It was really as bad as the speeches of some
members of Parliament, and worse because it was foolish.
The fact is, a set of cunning fellows on both sides of the water (but here
utterly characterless) have contrived to make both English and Yankees
believe that each was bent upon quarreling with the other.
Your thinking of me “as an Englishman” would once have been a
compliment, and is what from my well-known feelings and expressions I
have passed for among my friends here. Had the North gone on giving in to
the South as for years past, I should have been one, at least in residence,
just as soon as I could have got out of the country. I thank God, it has been
otherwise, and that I have a country to be proud of, and which I will gladly
suffer for, if need be. With all its weakness and follies (and I know them
well) I go for my country, and to be friendly with those we ought to be on
good terms with. I am cured of some illusions. We shall do very well, and
the two countries will be on the best of terms when we are strong; till then
we must not expect it.
If it is the old question of struggle for life, good feeling has not much to
do with it: the weak must go to the wall, because it can’t help it. “Blessed
are the strong, for they shall inherit the earth.”
My wife, who is loath to strike you from her books, begs you to make
allowances for the people here, who were so very cocky at having caught
two such ineffable scamps as Mason and Slidell, whom we have reason to
hate with perfect hatred; that they thought of nothing else, and did not mean
to be saucy to England. But you have made us sore, there is no denying it.
We did not allow enough for longitude.
Her former message did not refer to Boott (though he is unfortunately
influenced by longitude; but is a Yankee born), nor to Hooker, who, Gallio
fashion, cares for none of these things; thinks us unwise for fighting, I
presume; but we perfectly agree to say nothing about such matters. It is odd
that you all fail to appreciate that it is simply a struggle for existence on our
part, and that men will persist in thinking their existence of some
consequence to themselves, though you prove the contrary ever so plain;
and will strike or grasp or kick, right and left, in an undignified way
sometimes; which the safe and sound bystander, coolly looking on, may not

appreciate, not sharing his feelings, telling him the world will get on quite
as well without him; yet he somehow does not quite like it.
March 6.
I have your note of February 16, about Melastomaceæ. The test of a
good theory is said to be its power of predicting. If your speculations lead
you to predict the style curved to one side in Melastomaceæ, and the
prediction is verified, that will be a great matter in your favor. Why, you are
coming out so strong in final causes that they should make a D. D. of you at
Cambridge!
I shall be pleased if I can help you about Rhexia. R. Virginica grows not
far from here, and I will set to watching it next summer. But I fear it may
not help you, as it is stated in our “Flora of North America” to have
“anthers uniform.” I see, however, the phrase, “style somewhat declined,”
in the character; which must be looked to. The character was drawn wholly
from dried specimens. I have good details from fresh ones drawn by Mr.
Sprague, but cannot just now lay hands on them.
Freely point out anything else you want looked at. I have now a very
zealous pupil, who will be glad to be intrusted with looking up plants and
observing.
Ever yours, cordially,
Asa Gray.
There is some jolly science in the “Saturday Review,” now and then; as
in December 28, p. 665, where we are informed that icebergs “are formed
by the splashing of the waves on the coast of Labrador.”
Mill being “the greatest logician in England,” I send you an American
reprint of a specimen of his logic, which I know you will like.
We are very sad here at the death of the president of our university,[51]
who had also many warm friends in England.
March 31.
Yours of the 15th came this evening. To-morrow I am busy all day in
college (where I began my course this year with lectures on Fertilization,
developing your views on orchid-insect fertilization, dimorphism, etc., etc.,
to an interested class!), so I must drop a line for you into a letter for Boott,
for Wednesday’s post.

A friend has just handed me Morell’s new book, which, looking at
psychology from the physiological side, I see brings up several notions
which have been turning over in my mind for some years. He is coming out
a good Darwinian, I see, and is quite of my way of thinking about design.
You see I am determined to baptize [“The Origin of Species”], nolens
volens, which will be its salvation. But if you won’t have it done, it will be
damned, I fear....
Things move on here, on the whole, very well.
Yes, I will promise not to hate you; quite the contrary!
Our sensitiveness as to England was the natural result of the strong filial
feeling on our part. It was very undignified, I dare say. But I think we are
getting bravely over it, and getting really not to care what the Old Country
may think or say, so it lets us alone.
As to Rebeldom, there is now hardly any State that we have not got
some foothold in.
I do not do so much scientific work as before the war, but still I keep
pottering away. From now till July, I can expect to do little besides my
college duties. Ever, dear Darwin, your cordial friend and true Yankee,
A. Gray.
May 18.
Yesterday came by post the sheets B-I of your Orchid book.
This evening (Sunday) I have opened the parcel and read introduction
and chapter i. What a charming book it is! You are right in issuing it in this
form. It would be a sin not to do so.
I fear, though, that no publisher would reprint it here; though I may, on
reading farther, conclude to offer it to the Appletons, who should have the
refusal. But it will surely be popular in England, where orchids are popular
and the species known to most intelligent and educated people. I hope soon
to get the other sheets. I am perfectly delighted with O. pyramidalis, and
must extract the whole account of its fertilization for “Silliman’s Journal.”
Our only orchis, that is, O. spectabilis, I brought last summer from
western New York, and planted. I shall in a week have three or four spikes
coming into flower, and I will cover one and leave the others exposed. They
are in a wooded part of the garden, like their natural habitat. The rest of our
Ophrydeæ are Habenarias (Platanthera).

I must recur to your letter about Cypripedium and see what you wanted
of it, that is, what observation.
If there be any adaptation, be it ever so pretty, I shall never see it without
your direction. What a skill and genius you have for these researches! Even
for the structure of the flower of the Ophrydeæ I have to-night learned more
than I ever knew before.

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

Cambridge, April 26, 1861.
My dear Friend,—My duties in the university at this season are very
pressing. Besides, we are now opening a war, upon the determination of
which our very existence depends, and upon which we are to concentrate all
our strength and soul, so I have no time nor heart to write of botany just
now....
Ever, dear De Candolle, yours most cordially,
Asa Gray.
December 16.
We do not often exchange letters now, and in these for us trying times in
the United States, though far removed from the actual scenes of war, and
not much interrupted in my botanical studies, except by distracting
thoughts, I write as few letters as I can. The unfriendly attitude of England
gives us much concern. Were it not for that, it is thought we should soon put
an end to our rebellion. But I will not write of such matters now.
July 2, 1862.
No fear about our army, now so great. It is largely composed of materials
such as nothing but a high sense of duty could keep for a year in military
life. It will dissolve like last winter’s snow when no more needed.
While I write, a great battle is in progress, decisive if we gain it and take
the rebel capital, simply prolonging the strife if we do not. We can raise at
once another army if need be; and yet another. Indeed 300,000 more men
are now to be accepted, to recruit our ranks and make a sure thing of the
result.
Confident of our cause, we expect confidently the favor of Providence....
What a charming book is that of Darwin on orchid fertilization!

TO CHARLES WRIGHT.

Cambridge, April 17, 1862.
I am at work in college now, you know, and it is very hard work. This
last vacation I had to make a new edition and new additions to my
“Manual,” etc., and to do it in a hurry, and I have at length, for the first
time, found out that I am growing old. In fact I broke down under it, and
have injured my health a little.... I doubt if I ever recover the spring and vim
of former times. But we shall see....
My hard work has got correspondence all horridly behindhand, and
determined me to draw in my horns, and drop a good deal of it. My desk
has long been so covered deep with unanswered letters, etc., that I have
abandoned it, and now sit over on the other side of the table.
If I sit down and answer a letter right off the day it comes, as I am now
doing with yours, and as I do with purely business letters, etc., then it is
safe. If I add it to the heap, it is a gone case, and I fear will never be really
answered.
Eaton, too, as you know, has been very hard worked, in his father’s
office.
Well, there is no State now in some part of which the star-spangled
banner does not float. Lincoln is a trump, a second Washington, steady,
conservative, no fanatical abolitionist. Foote, of your State of Connecticut,
is putting down his foot on the Mississippi. McClellan is to fight a great
battle at Yorktown. Another bloody battle may be fought near Corinth,
Mississippi. New Orleans will soon be ours, please God, and then this
wicked rebellion will be done for. I pray God I may live to see the end of it,
and the States brought back, quietly if they will, forcibly if they must.
I know it will rejoice your heart to see the thing done. And it will be
worth all it costs.
Come now, here is a good long letter for a man as tired as I to write, who
has been five or six hours in lecture-room, working hard.
August 1.
Here is a bit of reading for you,—substitute for letters, which in truth I
have not surfeited you with lately. Who can write letters in these trying
times?...

Last spring my health felt pretty seriously impaired. But by end of June I
was able to diminish my college work a little, and take the rest easier, and
so now I feel very much better, more like my old self, and I am beginning to
clear off my table that I may get at work again on that everlasting South
Pacific Exploring Expedition.
There is a charming book out, by Darwin, on the fertilization of orchids
by insects. It will open your eyes to most curious things. I have verified
much myself here, and made observations which Darwin regards as very
interesting. I send you a copy of the book through Eaton, as a present.
Any observations or notes you make I will send to Darwin.

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

July 2, 1862.
I am glad if my off-hand orchid notes interest you, or prove of the least
use. I am daily expecting a copy to send you of my notice of the early
chapters of your book. I will continue in the ensuing number. And whatever
of the notes I send you seem to you worth touching upon, you have only to
indicate them, and send back my memoranda, and I will take them up. But
as to Cypripediums, I should like to have an opportunity of examining them
(except C. acaule) more at large, and growing.
A week from to-morrow, I expect to be able to leave Cambridge, to go
down, with my examination papers to read, to my beau-père’s place on the
shore, for a few days. Then I will try to look up and bring home living
Rhexia Virginica; and also I expect to have a look at Calopogon pulchellus,
with its strong bearded labellum. And I hope it will not be too late to get
plenty of Mitchella repens, which my pupils do not bring me in as they
ought. I want to see if long-styled stigma and short differ, and also the
pollen of the two, as they do in Houstonia, of which I hope I sent you
Rothrock’s[52] observations. At least I will send when he has completed
them.
Precocious fertilization in the bud was much noticed here very long ago
by Torrey, in Viola, Specularia, etc., etc., also in Impatiens, about which see
my “Genera Illustrata,” volume ii. I once mentioned it to you as good
evidence of close fertilization. As to pollen-tubes of such, I have no

observations of my own, but a memory or fancy that they were shown to me
by Torrey. I will ask him, and have him look at Specularia.
As to the French lady’s translation and commentary on the “Origin,” I
am not so much surprised. As I view it, there are only two sides to the main
question. Very likely she takes one side in a thorough-going and consistent
manner; and either she is right, or I am right, i. e., there is design in nature,
or there is not. The no-design view, if one can bring himself to entertain it,
may well enough lead to all she says, and we may very much admire how
collision and destruction of least-favored brings about apparently orderly
results,—apparent contrivances or adaptation of means to ends. On the
other hand, the implication of a designing mind must bring with it a strong
implication of design in matters where we could not directly prove it.
If you grant an intelligent designer anywhere in Nature, you may be
confident that he has had something to do with the “contrivances” in your
orchids.
I have just received and glanced at Bentham’s address, and am amused
to see how your beautiful flank movement with the Orchid book has nearly
overcome his opposition to the “Origin.”
The military simile above leads me to speak of your wonder that I can
think of science at all in the midst of war. Well, first, we get used to it.
Second, we need something to turn to, and happy are they who, forbidden
to engage personally in the war (as I am ever itching to do), have something
to turn to. Third, I do not do much, do nothing, in fact, except my college
duties now for months, and that is the reason I have time to write to you,
and be interested in all your doings.
If you suppose everything is paralyzed and desolate here, and the
country greatly put back, read a very sensible letter of an Englishman in the
“Spectator” of June 7. It is very just and true. We shall recuperate fast
enough, and be better off than ever, as much prosperity as is good for us,
and more solid, more independent, more self-contained, which is our great
desideratum. Free trade be blowed; we must needs have high duties on
imports, and it is better that we should. By these and by direct taxes—the
tax-bill just passed—we shall have to pay over largely. Very well.
Just at present our prospects (viz., evening of July 3) are looking badly
enough. McClellan has clearly been overmatched and driven to the wall,
after very obstinate fighting, with very heavy loss on both sides. Whether it

is retrievable with reinforcements, or whether the whole campaign has to be
begun again against Richmond, is not yet clear. Anyway we have got to put
shoulder to the wheel anew, and it may be done, we suppose, more easily
and far more promptly than last year. All we ask is that Europe shall let us
alone.
Enough for to-day.
Providence, R. I., July 29, 1862.
No more news in the orchids line. I am making two or three days of
holiday, and yesterday I found a few specimens of Gymnadenia tridentata.
But the flowers are too small to examine well with a hand lens. If they keep,
I will take them back to Cambridge in a day or two and see what to make of
them....
As to the country, you will see by this time that we have not the least
idea of abandoning the struggle. We have learned only that there is no use
trying any longer to pick up our eggs gently, very careful not to break any.
The South forces us at length to do what it would have been more humane
to have done from the first, i. e., to act with vigor, not to say rigor.
We shall be complained of for our savageness, no doubt, whereas we feel
that our error has been all the other way. But the independence, the total
indifference to English feeling which you recommended last year, has come
at length; now we care nothing what Mrs. Grundy says.
Cambridge, September 22, 1862.
Your pleasant epistles of August 21 and September 4 are to be
acknowledged, with thanks. But I have nothing in particular to
communicate, except our hearty congratulations that your boy and Mrs.
Darwin are recovering so well.
Tell Leonard that I was pleased both with his attention in writing and
with the ocular proof of his convalescence in his being able so soon to use a
pen. His requests shall be kept in view; the five-cent stamp I send now; dare
say I shall sometime pick up the thirty and ninety, though I never saw the
latter, nor the twelve, twenty, and twenty-four on envelopes (the twenty-
four cent he must have already, as it is often used on my envelopes to you).
Bravo for Horace, whose illustration of Natural Selection as to the
adders is capital. A chip of the old block, he evidently is.

I told you that Rothrock had gone to the war, and perhaps has already
been under fire; probably not. I had intended that next spring he should do
up Houstonia more perfectly, and work up this and some related matters for
his thesis when he comes up for examination. But all this is broken up by
his enlistment....

I have been lazy about all my writing, working all day at dry and dull
systematic botany, which you anathematize. But if I get time to turn it over,
I will say a few words on the last chapter of your Orchid book. But it opens
up a knotty sort of question about accident or design, which one does not
care to meddle with much until one can feel his way further than I can.
October 4, 1862.
I have just been reading Max Müller’s lecture on the Science of
Language with much interest. But perhaps what has interested me most is,
after all, his perfect appreciation and happy use of Natural Selection, and
the very complete analogy between diversification of species and
diversification of language. I can hardly think of any publication which in
England could be more useful to your cause than this volume is, or should
be. I see also with what great effect you may use it in our occasional
discussion about design; indeed I hardly see how to avoid conclusion
adverse to special design, though I think I see indications of a way out.
Depend on it, Max Müller will be of real service to you.
October 13.
I have been so much occupied that I deferred to the last moment to write
out my second notice of your Orchid book for “Silliman’s Journal.” I wrote
out Saturday evening what I could, and to-day have finished and sent off
my manuscript to New Haven. The greater part consists of a record of some
of my observations last summer, very hurriedly penned, and sent off. I trust
you will be pleased, and will think that my little contributions cannot be
better hatched than under your wings.
I hope that my young correspondent is fast recovering strength. Tell him
that I have no more stamps for him yet, but shall pick up his desiderata one
of these days.
I have some nice live roots of Cypripedium, two or three species to send
you, and mean to send Mitchella.
How Hooker does praise up your book, in the “Gardener’s Chronicle!”
Cambridge, November 10, 1862.
It is refreshing to me that you find the special correspondent of the
“Times” detestable.
Your comments upon our affairs always show such a good spirit that you
need not fear even my wife’s “indignation.”

We are sorry that you suffer in England; but you must blame the rebels
for it, not us, and your Manchester people should have looked earlier to
India for cotton.
You don’t see, as you would if here, the total impossibility of coming to
any terms of peace with the South, based on their independence. Before that
can be they or we must be thoroughly beaten. You can’t be expected to see
too, what seems plain to me, that you English would give us no end of
trouble if we attempt a piecemeal existence. We must be strong enough to
keep any Old-World power at bay. Then we shall behave pretty well, on the
whole; surely so when the North is dominant and is fairly treated. “Seizing
on Canada.” What do we want of Canada? When the South was aggressive
and making slave States we often looked to the peaceful acquisition of
Canada as desirable, as a counterpoise. But when we had “changed all
that,”—and it is changed, and slavery limited, past all doubt, however the
combat ends,—we no longer have use or need of Canada. If we get set up
again, we have work enough at home, and our hands full for years; we shall
be strong for defense, but weak for aggression. The ill-feeling to England
will die out when we are well able to defend ourselves and our home
interests.
It does seem that all England wishes us to be weak and divided; perhaps
that is good national policy. But the more that is so, the more necessary it is
for us to vindicate our integrity, at whatever cost. Let us have it out now,
even at the cost of ten times what it has cost so far.
I never thought anything of American institutions for England.
Aristocracy is a natural and needful appendage to monarchy. You work out
your own type, and you will liberalize fast enough, and leave us to do ours.
We’ll make it do, with some jangling.
I wish we could be shut up, like the Japanese of old, for ten or twenty
years, only with a weekly mail from you and Dr. Hooker. Well, well!
Ever yours cordially,
Asa Gray.
November 24.
About Max Müller; surely you can’t wonder that the attempt to account
for the “first origin of language,” or of anything else, should be the “least
satisfactory.”

The use that I fancied could be made of Max Müller’s book, or rather of
the history of language, is something more than illustration, but only a little
more; that is, you may point to analogies of development and
diversification of language, of no value at all in evidence in support of your
theory, but good and pertinent as rebutting objections urged against it.
Bishop Colenso’s book will make a noise in England; indeed, I have
only read the notice in the “Athenæum.”
You detest the spirit of the “Times” quoad U. S. The “Athenæum” is just
as bad in its little penny-trumpet way, every chance it can get, from the first.
Can you be much surprised that we return dislike with interest? But we are
pleased to find there are sensible and fair writers, such as Cairnes and Mill.
No, dear Darwin, we don’t scorn your joining in the prayer that we daily
offer that “God would help our poor country,” and I know and appreciate
your honest and right feeling.
I see also, from the English papers I read, how you must picture us as in
the extreme of turmoil and confusion and chaos. But if you were here, you
would open your eyes to see everything going on quietly, hopefully, and
comfortably as possible. I suppose we do not appreciate our miseries. We
accept our misfortunes and adversities, but mean to retrieve them, and
would sink all that we have before giving up. We work hard, and persevere,
and expect to come out all right, to lay the foundations of a better future, no
matter if they be laid in suffering. That will not hurt us now, and may bring
great good hereafter.
I never saw, and have scarcely heard of, Miss Cooper’s book you ask
after. She is the daughter of the late J. Fenimore Cooper, the novelist. The
village she describes must be Cooperstown, New York, in the county
adjacent to that in which I was brought up,—a region which, every time I
visit it, I say it is the fairest of lands, and the people the happiest.
Oh, as to the weeds; Mrs. Gray says she allows that our weeds give up to
yours. Ours are modest, woodland, retiring things, and no match for the
intrusive, pretentious, self-asserting foreigners. But I send you seeds of one
native weed which, corrupted by bad company, is as nasty and troublesome
as any I know, namely, Sicyos angulatus; also of a more genteel
Cucurbitacea, Echinocystis lobata (the larger seeds). Upon these, especially
upon the first, I made my observation of tendrils coiling to the touch. Put

the seeds directly into the ground; they will come up in spring, in moist
garden soil.
My observations were made on a warm, sunny day. I doubt if you have
warmth and sunshine enough in England to get up a sensible movement.
My note about them is in “Proceedings of the American Academy,” iv.,
p. 98, reprinted in “Silliman’s Journal,” March, 1859, p. 277. I must own
that upon casually taking them up since, I never have obtained such very
good results as upon two days of August, 1858.
Upon gourds affecting each other’s fruits, I have made no observations
at all. I have only referred to that, as a well-known thing, at least, of
common repute here, and then referred to maize, where the soft sweet-corn,
when fertilized by hard yellow-corn, the grain so fertilized takes the
character of the fertilizer. My note about it is in Academy “Proceedings,”
vol. iv., I think. You have the volumes (which I have not in reach now), and
can find it by the index. It does not amount to much. Nothing on maize I
know of except Bonafous’ folio volume. I am going to get and send you
grains of four or five sorts of maize. About the involucrate form, I wrote in
my last.

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

Cambridge, 14th October, 1862.
Dear Engelmann,—Never mind turmoil. It will come out right. I go against
the abolition wing, but support the President in his Proclamation.
If the rebels continue obstinate, that is only a question of time. Of that,
as a military measure, and of the expediency, the President of the United
States is the sole judge, and in time of war he is to be supported heartily. I
myself do not see clearly that the time had come. But I have a notion that
the President knows better than I.
As you like Judge Parker, I will send you an article written before the
Proclamation came out. You will like it, all but the last part, the bitter end. I
would continue the war, if necessary, to the sweeping of all rebeldom bare.
And that appears to be the sober sentiment of the country.
If Judge Parker, etc., had let their convention alone, we would have
ousted Sumner for a wiser man. But now I fear that Sumner will be returned
to the Senate.

You had better in Missouri abolish slavery and take United States bonds
in indemnity. You will never do better.

TO CHARLES WRIGHT.

October 13, 1862.
Both Torrey and Eaton speak of having your photograph. You cut me, I
suppose, because I am such a poor correspondent! I am afraid I deserve it,
but what can a poor fellow do in such times as these?...
A fruit, one of a dozen ripened here this season in the Garden, has such a
tropical look and taste that it reminded me of you. It is Asimina triloba!
Tastes like a rich custard into which a piece of scented soap has fallen....
General Stuart with his cavalry has been cutting all round McClellan’s
army again. Next time, I expect they will make a circuit as far round as
Boston, or at least Connecticut, and carry off the horses. They are more in
earnest than we are; but we shall use them up at length.
November 14.
Here I was this afternoon, moiling over your plants, copying out
Grisebach’s manuscripts for the printer (for the printer won’t touch the
Dutchy-looking thing; and besides, I have additions to make, etc.), when I
just happened to remember that to-morrow is Havana mail, and that I was
by all means to write to you to-day. There is still time, so here goes.
First, can’t you make some arrangement, while you are at this end of
Cuba, to receive a Yankee newspaper by mail; say to the address of Don
José Blain, or some Havana address. If you can arrange it that it is not
stopped, I will send you papers regularly; say the little “Boston Herald,”
small, soon read, democratic, patriotic, or others, from time to time....
As to collecting still, I should say, Yes, go on, in a gradual and cheap
way, i. e., do not make very heavy outlays, as long as you are in the
country; at least till next summer. For we cannot get the war done until late
next spring (except in Texas).
If you can do as much for western as for eastern Cuba, it will be a good
thing....
Meanwhile I have money enough for you, if you can only get it....
But how can you get it at present rates? Or how can I get it to you? If
greenbacks would pass there as here, it would be easy enough.

Is there not some Yankee product that I could ship to you that Blain or
Lescaille wants, sewing-machines, agricultural implements, chairs? So we
might save the loss on exchange. I will send you anything, from a mouse-
trap to a wheelbarrow!
You have a letter from me which must have reached you soon after yours
of October 25, saying that my last was eighty-five days old! Indeed, you
ought to have had it then....

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

January 27, 1863.
I have been far too busy to write letters; have been interrupted, too, by
visitors, etc....
You “wish to heaven the North did not hate us so.” We equally wish the
English did not hate us so. Perhaps we exaggerate the ill will in England
against us. You certainly over-estimate that of the United States against
England, which an influential part of your press exaggerates and incites for
the worst purposes. But, after all, after the first flurry, we think and say very
little about you, and shall live in peace with you, if you will let us. There
should have been, and might have been, the most thorough good will
between us. I do not think it is all our fault that it is not so.
In reply to your question:—
If oak and beech had large, colored corolla, etc., I know of no reason
why it would be reckoned a low form, but the contrary, quite. But we have
no basis for high or low in any class, say, dicotyledons, except perfection of
development or the contrary in the floral organs, and even the envelopes;
and as we know these may be reduced to any degree in any order or group,
we have really, that I know of, no philosophical basis for high and low.
Moreover, the vegetable kingdom does not culminate, as the animal
kingdom does. It is not a kingdom, but a commonwealth; a democracy, and
therefore puzzling and unaccountable from the former point of view.
I have just read De Candolle’s paper on oaks and species, and origin.
Well, he has got on about as far towards you as I have. It is clear enough
that, as I thought at first, derivation of species is to be the word, and natural
selection admitted. The only question is, whether this is enough.

Ever your attached friend,
A. Gray.

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

Cambridge, February 16, 1863.
I am disposed to join issue with you on the question of Linnæus’
definition of species. I have long pondered your discussion of the subject in
“Géographie Botanique,” and still think, on the supposition of the fixity of
species (which Linnæus of course had in view), that between “community
of descent” and “likeness,” the former and not the latter is the fundamental
conception in the idea of species. We may test this by inquiring whether of
the two can be derived from the other. The likeness, I suppose, is the
consequence of the community of descent. But, then, as the likeness is a
thing of degrees, and, according to present probabilities, species may have
only a relative and temporary fixity, your view will after all have the
advantage; and the question of species will come to be metaphysical or
logical, rather than natural-historical. The worst of all is that there will
remain no objective basis or standard; and species will be what each
naturalist thinks best so to consider!
I am pleased to know that the view of my article on the “Memoirs”[53] is
well received by you. Readable articles are very needful, when they can be
had, for a journal which, like Silliman’s, cannot exist without popular
support. I promised an article of sixteen pages of this character; but I
intended to enlarge more at the close upon the genius and influence of your
father, and cite your parallel with Linnæus as portrayed by Fabricius. But I
found that my pages were filled before I was aware of it, and I had to cut
short, much too curtly. It left me with a somehow dissatisfied feeling. All
your remarks about the difference between the profound and the prolific
botanists, I agree to; and I think that both Linnæus and De Candolle had as
much genius as Robert Brown....
Well, as to origin of species, you have now gone just about as far as I
have, in Darwinian direction, and both of us have been led step by step by
the facts and probabilities, and have not jumped at conclusions.
I shall be curious to see Mme. Royer’s book; Darwin has spoken of her.

Under my hearty congratulations of Darwin for his striking contributions
to teleology, there is a vein of petite malice, from my knowing well that he
rejects the idea of design, while all the while he is bringing out the neatest
illustrations of it!
Did time allow, I should like to write at large upon these enticing
topics....

TO W. J. HOOKER.

Cambridge, March 16, 1863.
I received this morning a letter from William Short, announcing to me
the death of his lamented father, our excellent friend, Dr. C. W. Short, of
Louisville, Kentucky, one of our oldest botanists, and one of the best of
men and kindest of friends. He died on the 7th inst., of a typhoid fever,
supervening on a severe cold.
I feel the loss very much. Although we never met, he was one of my
most valued friends....
He always remembered his former correspondence with you with great
interest, and was particularly pleased when, in my letter, I could give him
news of you.
His herbarium, upon which he bestowed great pains and considerable
expense, is conditionally bequeathed to the Smithsonian Institution.
Our botanical Nestor is Dr. Darlington. A few months since I had a letter
from him written in as firm a hand as ever; but now he is prostrated by
paralysis, which, however, leaves his mind clear. But he cannot remain
much longer with us. Short and Darlington were both hearty and true
Christian gentlemen.
April 28, 1863.
Your kind letter of the 6th inst. and the photograph were received with
more gratification than I can well express. Both your handwriting and your
carte de visite show you to be well and strong, and, please God, long may
you so continue.
Your face looks fuller than a dozen years ago, and a bit older, it may be,
but it recalls your friendly and kindly expression, and is the best substitute I
can have for not seeing you again.

What I wrote of our Nestor, Dr. Darlington, as about to be removed from
us, has come to pass. The good old man died, after much suffering from a
paralysis, on Wednesday last, the 22d, as a newspaper slip has apprised me.
He had reached the age of eighty-one. Unless we continue to rank Dr.
Bigelow among the botanists, Dr. Torrey, and even myself, now count
among the most advanced in age.
I am most happy to tell you that Dr. Torrey, whom I lately saw in New
York, and who last week looked in upon us here for a day, is quite well.
Mrs. Greene is cheerful and busy in carrying out her husband’s bequest
and desires, in favor of the Boston Natural History Society, to whom he left
his herbarium and botanical library.
By Professor George Bond, a colleague and neighbor of mine, our
distinguished astronomer, and a most worthy, amiable, and modest person,
whom I hope you may see, I sent out to you a photograph of F. A. Michaux
and of Adrien de Jussieu, which I thought you might like, and which I have
just had made from daguerreotypes which I induced them to sit for in Paris
in 1851. Bond will be delighted to see Kew again with its vast
improvements.
Ever, dear Sir William, yours affectionately,
Asa Gray.

TO MRS. THOMAS P. JAMES.

Cambridge, April 30, 1863.
I had sent some while ago word to Miss Morris that I had a single
seedling Darlingtonia, and should like to know if Dr. Darlington was in
condition to be interested in it. But she thought the time had passed for that.
His memory will long be venerated. We, at least, shall not forget him.
Twenty years ago he had sent to me his selected epitaph, and had
discussed it. It is natural and characteristic. I should take an interest in
seeing such an inscription on his tombstone. But, entre nous, I should not
fancy such an one on my own. I should select rather some simple line of
Holy Writ, expressive of the Christian trust and faith, such as our friend
died in.
I had lately been writing brief notices of several of our botanists,
deceased, for the May number of “Silliman’s Journal” (as you see, I mail a

copy just received); and at the time I felt that they probably would not be
published before there would be another and more distinguished name to
add.
I shall not wait for the year to come round, but I hope to draw up a brief
tribute to his memory for the July number of “Silliman’s Journal.” So I
should be much obliged to you for the dates and other particulars you
kindly offer to furnish. I hope that autobiography which you are so
fortunate as to possess is of such a character that it may be printed, and that
you will give it along with a little memoir from your own pen. It will be
quite in your way, and I would rather you should do it than any one else....
By the way, I may as well mention that Dr. Darlington told me that
certain letters, etc., of Baldwin’s, which he could not print, as they were
severe on Nuttall, should come into my possession after his own death. You
will probably know if any bundle of papers is left, directed to my charge.

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

Cambridge, March 22, 1863.
My dear Darwin,—Argyle’s article on the Supernatural, to which you called
my attention a long while ago, I never happened to see till to-day, when I
have read it through. It is quite clever, not deep, but clear, and I think
useful. I see no occasion for finding fault with him, except in his attempts
now and then to direct a little odium against you, which is unhandsome, for
his main points are those I hammered out in the “Atlantic,” etc.; indeed I
see signs of his having read the same. But it is hardly fair of him, after
expressing his complete conviction that where the operation of natural
causes can be clearly traced, the implication of design, upon its appropriate
evidence, is not thereby rendered less certain or less convincing, to go on to
speak of derivation-doctrine in a way that implies the contrary.
Of course we believers in real design make the most of your “frank” and
natural terms, “contrivance, purpose,” etc., and pooh-pooh your endeavors
to resolve such contrivances into necessary results of certain physical
processes, and make fun of the race between long noses and long nectaries!
March 23.
Dr. Wyman,[54] who is a sharp fellow, tells me that, on the authority of
the historian Prescott, the Incas of Peru, for no one knows how long,

married their sisters, to keep the perfect purity of the blood. Query: How
did this strong case of close-breeding operate? Did they run out thereby?
Wyman thinks there is no evidence of it.
If it is true, and the Incas stood it for a long course of generations, you
must look to it, for it will bear hard against your theory of the necessity of
crossing. If they run out, you will have a good case.
April 11.
You see that, at length, the thing is nearly done, and, to use the
expression here, rebeldom is “gone up.”
You have long seen, I suppose, that I was right in saying there was but
one possible end to the war; also that the continuance for a time or abolition
of slavery depended simply on the rebels,—that if they obstinately and
persistently resisted, slavery was thereby doomed.
It has been a long, weary, and trying work. But the country has had the
needed patience and nerve, and the thing is done, once for all, at great cost,
but to immense and enduring advantage.
You are the only Britisher I ever write to on this subject, and, in fact, for
whose opinions about our country I care at all.
So I hasten to rejoice with you over the beginning of the end.
April 20.
You asked me to tell you, when I had read it, what I thought of Sir
Charles Lyell’s book.[55] I have only to-day finished the perusal of the copy
he kindly sent me, that is, all but half of the matter on glacial period, which
I reserve till I can read it more attentively. Throughout it is a very
interesting and to me a very satisfactory book. It is three books: 1. A capital
résumé and examination of what we knew about the evidence of antiquity
of man; no evidence we had not read of before, but very clearly presented,
of course.
2. A treatise on the glacial period. Out of this I have much to learn, and
must read it all again carefully; of a part I have not yet cut the leaves.
3. On transmutation matters. That part of the book I can judge somewhat
of, and I declare it first-rate. It is just about what I expected, and is
characteristic of the man. I think that you, and Hooker, are unreasonable in
complaining of Lyell that he does not come out “flat-footed,” as we say, as
an advocate of natural-selection transmutation. For, 1st, it is evident that

though inclined strongly towards it he is by no means satisfied that natural
selection will do all the work you put upon it. 2d, he very plainly implies
nearly all you would have him say. And, 3d, he serves your cause
(supposing it to be well-founded) quite as effectually, perhaps, by his
guarded position, by his keeping the position of a judge rather than of an
advocate, and by considering still the case as not yet ripe for a decision.
Very skillfully, too, has he presented the case of transmutation so as to
commend it, as much as possible, to us orthodox people. (Huxley, I
suppose, whose two books I have not seen, would put it in a way to frighten
us off.) Indeed, I think he has shown remarkable judgment and taste, and
will have much success in disarming prejudice. And this is all you could
ask.
The chapter on language makes the points I supposed would be made, or
some of them, but only dips in, leaving more to be said. But this is rather
ticklish ground, for, if we are not careful here, you would get the better of
us in this field quoad design.
If I had got the book three or four weeks earlier I should have worked in
some notice of the last chapter into my review of De Candolle, etc., on
Species, in the May number of “Silliman’s Journal.”
Now please do not think of being ill this spring, and passing all your
valuable time, wasting it, at a water-cure.
I have really, as you see, nothing special to write of this week, and no
time to read what I have hurriedly penned.
May 26.
Your letter on heterogeny is keen and good; Owen’s rejoinder ingenious.
But his dissent from your well-put claims of natural selection to attention
and regard is good for nothing except on the admission of the view that
species are somehow derived genealogically; and this I judge, from various
of Owen’s statements, that he really in his heart believes to be the case, and
was (as I long ago intimated my suspicions) hunting about for some system
of derivation, when your book came down upon him like a thunderclap.
Wyman, here, is greatly pleased with Huxley’s book on man’s place in
nature. I have not even seen it.
Did you ever notice how prettily Iris is arranged for cross-fertilizing by
bees, etc.?

Your Linum paper has long been here. But I have actually not had time
to read it. I might have glanced at it. But I find it best to read only when I
can do so with some attention.
Phyllotaxis: I have no notion in the world why the angular divergences
should be of that series of numbers and not of others. Opposite leaves give
(decussating) the angles. My puzzle has been to account for this system in
cycles in leaves running into the system of decussating whorls in flowers
(usually, almost universally). You will see the question by comparing in my
“Botanical Text-Book” (not “Lessons”), pp. 236, 237, with chapter v.,
section 1; and you see I have drawn an illustration from it apropos to
Falconer’s remark. But explaining the obscure by the obscure does not
amount to much.
As to national affairs, how quarrelsome you English are. Here are we,
cool and quietly occupied with our little affairs, never dreaming of harm
from you, and your people are trying their prettiest to pick a quarrel with us,
because we do what Historicus says the English have always done and will
do again when the time comes, having Lord Stowell to back them! Tell me,
who is Historicus in the “Times”? An able and most influential person
evidently.
The government of England is now showing sense. Do not wonder that
some wild talk is given to the air in this rough country, after what you have
heard in the House of Commons, and read in the “Times,” etc. Am afraid
we shall not like each other for a good while—the nations. But all shows I
was right. We must carry out our little job, and hold the United States
complete and develop material strength at any cost, or we could not live
without eating more dirt than we like.
Boasting nonsense is pretty well knocked out of us by severe discipline
and sad reverses, but the determination is stronger than ever.
Time up and paper full. Forgive my maundering, and believe me to be,
Ever your affectionate,
A. Gray.
June, [1863].
I am kept distractingly busy, so look for nothing of any use from me yet
awhile.
Your Ohio case of law against marrying of cousins, I put to my neighbor,
Professor Parsons, who had it looked up. He tells me there is no such law at

all on the Ohio statute books, nor is there a trace of any law on the subject
to be found in the laws of any State in the United States. He doubts if there
can really be any statistics which tell on the point, because, first, the
marriage of first cousins is a rare thing in this country; second, the United
States decennial censuses do not afford any information on the matter; third,
nor any of the [state] censuses that he knows of.
Pray, don’t run mad over Phyllotaxis! I can’t save you, I am sure.
George’s “Converging Sines” is the same, perhaps, as what Bravais was
after. His memoir may help you (see “Botanical Text-Book,” p. 141, par.
248); or, if you want something thoroughly mathematical, consult
Neumann, of Berlin, in some paper, which I have no reference to....
I am sorry you do not give a better account of yourself. Be careful and
do not work too hard.
July 7.
My last from you is May 31.
I had arranged to reprint most of Bates on Mimetic Analogy in
“Silliman’s Journal,” but my long review of A. de Candolle crowded it out.
I then thought of a brief abstract, but have had no time to prepare it. I wrote
remarks and arranged long extracts of your Linum paper, and insisted on it
for the July number of “Silliman’s Journal.” But it, too, was laid over, not
for anything I had, for I have little in the July number.
I like and agree to your remark that, in Bates’s Geographical Varieties,
etc., we get about as near to seeing a species made as we are ever likely to
get; and so believing, I think your gradual way more likely than Heer’s
jumps.
Apropos to Heer, you ask me if it is not impossible to imagine so many
and nice coadaptations as we see in orchids being formed all by a chance
blow.
I reply, Yes, perfectly impossible to imagine (and much the same by any
number of chance blows).
So I turn the question back upon you. Is not the fact that the
coadaptations are so nice next to a demonstration against their having been
formed by chance blows at all, one or many?
Here lies, I suppose, the difference between us. When you bring me up
to this point, I feel the cold chill.

I have been doing nothing but attend to my daily work, and had got so
fagged that I really thought I was about to have softening of the brain, or
some other breakdown. But a week of respite, caused by the death of an
aged relative of my wife’s,—a dear old soul,—taking us away from here
perforce, has set me up very nearly, and now after a week more comes my
vacation, and we are off into the quiet country for three weeks.
A little legacy of about £2,000 to my wife comes in opportunely to
relieve us of anxiety for the future. We have no children (which I regret
only that I have no son to send to the war), and this with a little income,
rather precarious, of about £200 a year would support us in our very simple
way, if I were to throw up my place here. But I cannot do that yet....
Look at Impatiens flowers; see if the most fertile “precociously
fertilized” ones ever get crossed!
I have asked in three directions for seeds of the Specularia perfoliata.
Inclosed are depauperate specimens.
It is pretty to see honey-bees cross-fertilize Locust (Robinia), much as
you say of broom. One of my students has been noticing the way bees act
on Kalmia.
Now for my best thing for to-day.
An orchid which I missed last year, Platanthera flava, I knew would be
curious, for I remembered a strong protuberance on base of labellum, on the
median line. I have not time left to describe it now, having been sadly
interrupted, but it is pretty,—equal to anything you have yet seen in British
orchids. The process turns proboscis of insect either to right or left, where it
will slip into an imperfect ring (as seen from above) or deep groove (as seen
from before), in which lies the disk, not flat but coiled up, ready to catch
proboscis. It is like the eye of a needle to receive the thread.
Perhaps I will send you, or print, a sketch[56] of the thing.
I am waiting for Gymnadenia tridentata to come on.
But the post hour has come.
July 21.
Your latest is of the 26th ult. You need not worry! It never wearies nor
bores me to write to you, in the off-hand way I do. I enjoy our
correspondence too much to consent to curtail or interrupt it. I learn from
you, here in this remote part of the world, a thousand things which I should

not otherwise know at all. And you stimulate my mind far more than any
one else, except, perhaps, Hooker. So please do not make a fuss, but let me
go on in my own fashion, and send me your fresh and stimulating letters,
whenever you are in the mood of it. I am now in my vacation, and already,
having idled and dawdled a week or two, I am as well and hearty as
possible, and in the best of spirits. We should leave home this week for
three weeks’ run in the country, but the sickness of my wife’s nephew,
Lieutenant Jackson of Massachusetts Cavalry, will keep us awhile, as,
though not alarming, it might take a bad turn, and so I may not be in the
country for a week or two yet. We shall see....
I have strong and fresh Drosera rotundifolia, and it will now turn in its
bristles and stick the viscid gland fast to a fly, binding him fast on all sides
with liliputian cords. But it is awfully slow about it,—say three or four
hours, and the next day the leaf sometimes becomes involute and folds over
or curves around the insect; but what good? If the fly is not stuck fast in
alighting, no movement takes place to hold him till he has got away if he
ever could. However, it is an indication of what is so effectually done in
Dionæa.
Rotary movement of end of tendril-bearing stems is common, is it not,
and well-known?
Any notes you will give me to print in “Silliman’s Journal,” I shall
always delight in.
I have been reading Owen’s Aye-aye paper. Well, this is rich and cool!
Did I not tell you in the “Atlantic,” long ago, that Owen had a transmutation
theory of his own! It is your Hamlet, with the part of Hamlet left out! But as
you say now, you don’t so much insist on natural selection, if you can only
have derivation of species. And Owen goes in for derivation on the largest
scale. You may as well lovingly embrace! Oh, it is rare fun!...
I have been so far disappointed in getting no Gymnadenia tridentata. But
I still hope for it. I must have it, indeed.
Boott’s address is good, chiefly very good. But he speaks of Wyman’s
paper without having duly considered it. Wyman’s experiments are better
than Pasteur’s, and the results opposite!
P. S.—Papers just in, or rather telegrams, that you in London were daily
awaiting and expecting the capture of Washington, etc., and speculating as

to whether Jeff Davis’s envoys from Washington might not be received at
London as a fait accompli. A good deal of little-concealed joy, etc.
Oh, foolish people! When will you see that there is only one end to all
this, and that the North never dreams of any other,—the complete putting
down of the rebellion. And since 1863 began, it was clear that it would be
attended with the annihilation of slavery.
Time was when we should have highly valued English appreciation of
the right cause. We have long ceased to care or think about it.
We only wish you had the city of New York. But the sympathizers with
secession and riot there have done their worst, and lost their game. The city
of New York is the only part of our country which I am ashamed of; and the
trouble there is that it is not American.
Enough; good-bye.
A. G.
September 1.
Your fine, long letter of August 4th reached me up in the country, in my
native region, in the centre of the State of New York, rusticating and
enjoying ourselves mightily. We were among the people of a thriving
region; a well-to-do set; no poverty near us for miles and miles, i. e., no
hardship, except any that a drunken laborer might bring on his family; and I
longed to take you out with us in our drives, that you might see a happy and
comfortable country, more and more so every year, and perhaps a larger
ratio of the population refined to a reasonable degree in feeling and life than
I know of in any other part of the world.
I will consider about fantastic variation of pigeons. I see afar trouble
enough ahead quoad design in nature, but have managed to keep off the
chilliness by giving the knotty questions a rather wide berth. If I rather
avoid, I cannot ignore the difficulties ahead. But if I adopt your view bodily,
can you promise me any less difficulties?
If your Lythrum paper shall be at all equal in interest to that on Linum, it
will be a gem.
As to tendrils, what are Hooker and Oliver (the latter a professor, too)
about, and where have they lived not to know anything of them? Everybody
must have seen, in Cucurbitaceæ and Passiflora, tendrils reaching out
straight for a certain time, and then, if they reach nothing, coiling up from
the end. Also the sweeping of stems....

P. S. [To the above?] Three numbers of Boston newspapers recently sent
you, two by this mail (in which my good beau-père is again “spiking the
English”), please to forward to Reuben Harvey, Esq., Limerick, Ireland.
You are quite out in supposing that hatred of England is increasing, or
that there is the least desire to meddle with you, except in self-defense.
My own feelings were very sensitive at first, because I expected better
things, and I then deferred much to British opinion. I now do neither, and
nothing strikes me more than the smallness of mind and largeness of
gullibility of the British people, as far as I can judge from their press
(weeklies, quarterlies, and “Times”). But I do not suppose you will fight us
because you dislike us; and so conversely. I suppose I do not see the papers
which so abuse England, though I read influential and respectable papers;
but from what I do see, I think we receive far more abuse and
misrepresentation and unfair usage than we give.
As to the course of the war and policy of our country as to slavery, some
day when you turn back to some early letter of mine you will see that I was
a fairly good prophet; that the South might have delayed the abolition of
slavery by giving up early in the conflict, but that every month of continued
resistance hastened and insured the downfall of slavery. That is now
doomed, and sure near to rapid death; quick in some places, slower in
others, but sure.
Ill-usage of negroes—who make such good soldiers—will soon be
unheard of, except with Irish. It will take some generations of American life
to breed out the barbarian they bring to the country.
November 23.
The next best thing, of late, is the exposé of Lindsay and George
Saunders (the Confederates) by Historicus.
I trust Historicus’ previous letters, in which he shows (about the same
time my father-in-law’s articles on the subject reached England) that it is
the duty of a country to see that armed or war vessels are not fitted out,
quite irrespective of all municipal law, have produced their proper effect.
Something has produced a great effect, and a great change in the idea of
what it was incumbent on the government to do; and nothing can be more
satisfactory than the views now taken; and the effect here is excellent. For
we are sure that when the right notions once get a lodgment, as they have,
England will faithfully carry them through. Lawyers whom I knew here

were confident how the law would ultimately be laid down by your courts;
but we greatly feared it would be done only after a few more such vessels
had got to sea. All will go well now.
The newspaper I occasionally send you is a fair specimen of the
influential part of the press here. Such articles as the “Times” likes to cite
have far less effect here than you suppose in the determination of events.

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

Cambridge, December 11, 1863.
My dear Engelmann,—Our good old friend Von Martius writes me that on
the 30th March next, he will reach his fiftieth anniversary of his doctorate. I
dare say his friends will commemorate it in Germany. It occurs to me that it
would be a good idea for some of us, his friends and correspondents, to
compliment him upon the occasion. Suppose you draw up in German a
letter of congratulation, etc., to be signed by yourself, Torrey, Sullivant, etc.,
and forward about the proper time. Send me, with your German circular
letter to Martius, a translation in English....
Yes, I will let you work at botany when I guard you.[57] Your botanical
work is far better than your politics. But you must swear the President’s
oath, Proclamation and all!!
Martius is not a very remarkable botanist, but good; is a genial,
philosophical soul (full of Plato, etc.), a good explorer, has worked up the
Palms, etc., well, and is a wonderful man for the amount he knows on a vast
number of different subjects,—philology, antiquities, philosophy, et id
genus omne.
May 3, [1864].
... Spring is opening here, but late. From this to July 10, I am engaged in
college every day in the week. Also am watching the herbarium building go
up, the brick walls of which, if good weather, may be all up this week, and
the roof put on next week.
Your circular letter to good Martius was very good, especially in its
original German. Thanks....
Never mind if “Sagittaria graminea, Michaux,” is applicable to only one
form. You had best keep the old name, the more so as that you propose, S.
simplicifolia, is “not always correct.” We can’t let you change a name

because you can improve it. Too many can and would play at that game,
and less discreetly than you would, and then cite your example!
If Fendler gets tired of bush-clearing, and will come to me this fall, I will
give him $500 a year as curator, lodgings, two rooms in gardener’s house,
which I have reserved; and let him have say three days in the week for
himself, if he wants them.
The people are determined to support and reëlect their excellent
President Lincoln (what a noble letter that last of his), whether Frémont and
the like make a coalition with copperheads or not. It is all the same to us.
Lincoln will walk the course. God bless him!
Wright is coming home for a few months this summer.

TO CHARLES WRIGHT.

Cambridge, September 18, 1863.
What Don José affirms about coast and mountain vegetation being much
the same is curious, unlikely, yet you seem to find it so. That bit of coast
with all microphyllous and spiny vegetation is also curious.
I am glad you like him for being an abolitionist. Though not very much
of an abolitionist myself, at the start, I hope I can fall in with, and welcome,
the ways of Providence, when Providence takes the matter in hand, and say
Amen....
Well, you are doing well in botanizing, and should finish up Cuban
botany while you are at it. And on your return, you and Grisebach should
join teams, and do up Cuban botany in a full memoir. You are right to stay
till next spring. You are happy in Cuba; you would not be so here. Things in
the United States do not go to suit you at all. “Things is working,” and in
the right way,—but the end must be the total suppression of the rebellion,—
the exile or punishment of rebel leaders, the return of the masses to their
duty, and they will put things straight. Just what is now going on in
Tennessee will go on elsewhere, I suppose. I know only one man in
Cambridge that you could talk secesh to. We can correspond very well, and
keep cool. But if we were together, during the war, we should get into a row
at once. It could not be otherwise....
When the Union is restored (which it is to be, of course, when the
rebellion is put down) those who do not love us well enough to resume their

duties and privileges have only to take themselves off to some country they
like better. The United States of America belongs to loyal Americans. After
the war the country will prosper wonderfully. And the South will get to be
something.
December 1.
Things move on.
“The mills of the Gods grind slow, but they grind exceeding fine.” Wait
in Cuba a year longer, and you may return to a country in which slavery,
having tried to get more, has lost all, and as a system is defunct, to the
lasting benefit of all parties.
You might now revisit your old Texan haunts, under General Banks’s
protection.
The November elections show a united North. Peace democracy has
made its issue, and is dead. The reëlection of Lincoln by acclamation seems
probable, supported by moderate men of all sorts, the extremes of the
opposing parties alone going against him....
Merry Christmas to you.
January 21, 1864.
By the steamer of Saturday, which takes this, a good young fellow, Mr.
Kennedy, a member of our Senior class, goes to Cuba, to look after business
of his father, and, when he can, to botanize, only four or five weeks, that is,
in vacation. He is very fond of botany, and bids fair to be a botanist some
day, if he does not take to money-making instead....
This war, we think, will be pretty much over next summer; and then,
back in the Union, with slavery pretty much nowhere, by the hearty wish of
a majority of the people, we may expect a career of prosperity and real
advance of the South, such as it has never known. At least we hope so.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

Cambridge, December 25, 1863.
For ourselves, your letter found us here just on the eve of our month’s
holiday, a trip to Lake George, and thence to my natal region, in the most
beautiful (and the most English-looking) part of the State of New York....
My wife was well enough to do her small part in a great fair held in Boston
for the United States Sanitary Commission (which has kept the ladies very

busy for the last six months), which has just closed, having brought the net
proceeds of about $125,000 (it turns out $140,000) for the relief of
suffering.
As to our national affairs, I should like now and then to send you such
comments or articles as seem to me to throw most light upon our condition.
There is little I could say in a letter. I said very early to English friends that
if the rebellion were short it might leave things much as they were before
(no desirable state), but if long and obstinate, it would cut the knot we were
unable to untie and completely destroy the slave system. You see now it is
coming to pass, by rather slow but sure steps, and a great blessing it is to be
to the South. To the North the war, with all its sad evils, has been a great
good, morally and politically. The end is in the hands of Providence, and we
humbly wait for it; but there is very little diversity of opinion here as to
what, essentially, the end is to be, that is, the complete territorial
reinstatement of the Union, and the abolition of slavery. Very sanguine, you
think, in England. We must wait and see, and on our part hope and labor.
Now for a little personal matter. I have long been anxious for the safety
and final destination of my herbarium and other botanical collections,
which in my house (besides that, there is not room for them) are too liable
to destruction from fire. I had offered them, with my botanical library, to
our university, if they would build in the Botanic Garden a fireproof
building to hold them, and raise a small fund for their support. Recently and
quite unexpectedly, a banker in Boston, almost unknown to me personally,
has offered in any case to construct the building, and a few friends are
taking steps, with good prospects, to raise by gifts a fund of $10,000 for the
support of the establishment. When done, I shall feel that my collections,
which are most important for North American botany, are secure for the use
of future botanists. To secure this I gladly divest myself of the ownership of
collections which have absorbed most of my small spare means for the last
thirty years, and which are valued at $20,000 or more....
In the council of our American Academy (of which since May last I have
been president) we have nominated Dean Milman to the foreign honorary
membership vacated by the death of Whately, and Max Müller to that
vacated by Grimm. The election has not yet taken place.
Mrs. Gray, with kind regards, joins me in best wishes for the new year to
you and yours.

Very sincerely yours,
Asa Gray.

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

Cambridge, December 22, 1863.
My dear De Candolle,—I thank you cordially for your letter of the 13th
November, and for the copy of Thury’s interesting and curious paper. This I
had not seen, neither Pictet’s notice. I find it very interesting, but I do not
see how he got a legitimate deduction from the facts given by Knight in the
vegetable kingdom to his principle in the animal kingdom. However, that is
of small moment if the principle holds. The subject is one which will
naturally attract much attention, and which, as you remark, has
philosophical bearings. I mean to bring it up, next week, for discussion at
our private (social) scientific club in Cambridge.
I thank you also for the good spirit in which you take, as I meant them,
my criticisms upon your article on Species, etc. There is no progress to be
made upon such interesting subjects without free criticism, because without
it we cannot perfectly clear up our own views nor impart them perfectly to
others. And especially, since I have so often to criticise the views or
writings of persons for whom I have no particular regard, it is pleasant, if
only for the sake of impartiality, to criticise those for whom you have the
greatest regard and respect. So I particularly like it when I can criticise such
a near friend as J. D. Hooker or Bentham, and I believe they like it, too, at
least Hooker, who is himself a very free critic. Of course, I know very well
that you will be likely to turn all the points I made. The question upon
which of the two foundations the idea of species rests, I well know is not to
be settled off-hand by any bit of argument. Pray take up the cudgels against
me whenever an occasion offers.
As to theoretical views, you and I receive and use them as means, not as
ends, and expect to change many of them from time to time. Such
especially as relate to origins and causes are the questions which we ask,
rather than answers that we receive; and we put our questions variously
according to the leadings of the case at the time. But this is all
commonplace and trite.
It is curious to see that Owen, in his Aye-aye paper, has come to adopt
Heer’s[58] views essentially, of course without the slightest allusion to Heer.

Our civil war goes on slowly, but very surely, toward the destruction of
negro slavery; and with all its great cost, we may hope for future benefit in
proportion. By the time we have nearly ended our war, it may be that
Europe will have its turn again. I hope not.
A. Gray.

TO JAMES D. DANA.

Cambridge, January 20, [1864].
My dear Dana,—Perhaps you may not know, and I hope you may be as
pleased as I was to know, that your article of last summer on Geological
Periods is reprinted in full in the “Reader” (of London), with an
appreciative prefix.
Cephalization goes on bravely in your very taking article which you
have just sent me. I am much struck with it.
In one thing you zoölogists miss it, I think,—in following French
customs in dropping the Latin, the vernacular of science, in names. I wish
you would write Aphaniptera, etc., which is just as much English after all as
Aphanipters, and good for all languages.
Have Englishified contractions for all such names if you will; it is well.
But in proposing and formally writing of such divisions, etc., pray use the
scientific form.
The other course has greatly jargonified zoölogy.
In botany we have always been more dignified. Moreover I detest
“larve,” though Kirby tried to introduce the word. “Larva” has got to be as
English as “phenomenon.”
But I dare say most would agree with you.
I like the ring of most of the new technical terms you have coined....
Ever yours,
A. Gray.

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

February 16, 1864.
My dear Darwin,—Here we are past midwinter, and not being stimulated as
of old by your exciting letters, I have not written you a line since Christmas.

Not that I have had anything in particular to tell you. I write now to say how
very sorry I am that the word or two I get about you from Hooker gives me
the idea that you are having an uncomfortable and suffering time, as well as
entirely broken off from scientific work. I feel very sorry about it, and do
long for better news of you....
I have lately printed a couple of monographs, one pretty big one, of
American Astragali. I do not know that they contain anything you would
care to see. Yet I think I shall send you a copy presently, through Hooker.
I feel much the loss of dear old Boott, so good, so true a friend, and he
was always writing me little notes telling me of all that was going on.
The sentiment of our country, you must see, at least I assure you, has
settled, as I knew it would if the rebellion was obstinate enough, into a
determination to do away with slavery. Homely, honest, ungainly Lincoln is
the representative man of the country.
A Boston gentleman, at cost of $11,000 or more, is to build a fireproof
house for my herbarium, which I give to the university, with my botanical
library. A fund of $12,000 is raising to support it, which will relieve me of
the expenditure of about $500 a year. But I shall have double care and
bother all the coming spring and summer.
Dr. Scudder has gone to Cuba, to attend an invalid, and wishes to
examine orchid fertilization, and asks me what in particular he should look
at.
Pray get well, dear Darwin, and believe me to be ever,
Yours cordially,
Asa Gray.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

Cambridge, April 4, 1864.
My dear Mr. Church,—If you have long ago written your American
correspondent off your books, as being a right shabby fellow, he could not
complain.
Here is your agreeable letter of January 19th, a most prompt and more
than kind response to mine of Christmas, still unacknowledged by me!
The fact simply is that I have been delaying week by week in the hope of
being able to announce to you that the subscription for the support of our

botanical establishment was filled up. I am sorry to say that this cannot yet
be said. The matter has been privately conducted, that is, nothing said about
it in the public prints; but the two gentlemen who took the matter in hand
have quietly circulated the paper among their well-to-do acquaintances in
Boston, not beginning till late in January, under the idea that the fair for the
Sanitary Commission had perhaps exhausted their friends’ purses. Since
then, far greater and more pressing demands have been made upon the
benevolent and the public-spirited, for a variety of good objects; and our
affair has gone slowly in consequence.
I have not heard for a week respecting it, but a week ago the sum
subscribed was a little less than seven thousand dollars, the greater part in
sums of $500 each. The $10,000 is obviously secure, for subscribers of
$100 each, yet to be appealed to, may be relied on for a good part of the
lacking sum. But it begins to be clearly seen that $12,000 are needed for the
capital of the fund, and this, at the present rate, it will take some time to
secure.
Your own offer of a small subscription, I can truly say, not only gratified
me in the highest degree, as an expression of an interest in our affair which
I had no reason to expect, but has already been of use,—has really been as
good for us as any contribution you ought to make. For I took the liberty to
read that portion of your letter to three or four friends, and their interest in
the matter was sensibly quickened and exalted by this evidence of the lively
interest in the matter taken by a country parson, far away in England! So
pray consider that you have already helped us on, and we are truly grateful
to you for your generous proffer. There is, indeed, a strong temptation to
accept your kind offer in the fact that, in the present state of exchanges,
owing to our paper currency not on a specie basis (one of the sad
consequences of our civil war), every pound sterling in England, in normal
times worth only from $4.90 to $5.00, is worth nearly or quite $8.00, so that
a contribution of £5 sterling really now counts here for about forty dollars!!
So you see how hard it is for me to discourage your kind intentions. But I
really feel that the sum which I specified, as the condition of my own gift to
our university, is really quite sure, though slower in coming than we had
hoped.
As to the building for the herbarium, I have only to state it goes on
famously. It is considerably enlarged in plan from what was at first

contemplated, and a favorable early spring has allowed of more progress
than could have been expected at this season.
The generous donor of the building not only adopted at once the larger
plans as soon as suggested, but himself proposed improvements and
additions.
The building, the foundations of which are already laid, in the most
substantial manner, is 32 by 57 feet, and is connected with my private study
in the house I reside in by a neat conservatory 18 feet long, which takes the
place of the simple wooden corridor at first intended. The whole will cost
Mr. Thayer, the donor, by the contracts, more than $11,000, and is likely, by
extras, to reach the round sum of $12,000. And all will be done before the
summer is over, we trust.
See how the expression of your interest to me has led me on, to the
neglect of everything else I want to write about.... I wish to say something
about the troubles in your Old World, which, with all its age and wisdom,
falls into “difficulties” hardly less grave than ours. I hope poor brave
Denmark will not be crushed out of existence. There are English questions
which we regard with much attention, ecclesiastical and social questions, on
which I would fain know what you think. But I cannot write longer now.
Only as to our war, I beg you to believe that we (the earnest thoughtful
people and most around us, according to their measure) have acted and are
acting from the highest sense of duty,—duty to our beloved country and to
humanity; and we keep the full conviction that great and permanent good is
to result. Much of the good we see already, and more comes near to
realization every day. So we work and trust, and suffer cheerfully. We only
wish our views and motives were better appreciated in general in the
country and by the people whose good opinion we most value. But even the
lack of that appreciation, which is far from universal, is likely to do us
good. I am always sure of your thoughtful good wishes for us. But I must
break off.
Ever yours most sincerely,
Asa Gray.

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

Cambridge, May 30, 1864.

My dear De Candolle,—I have let your very kind letter of 28th January lie
on my desk a long time, always expecting to write soon, but, having been
extremely busy with various administrative matters and college work since
it reached me, the convenient moment for writing to you has not arrived till
now. I inclose a note to my young friend and late colleague, Professor Eliot,
which I beg you to send to the poste restante on arrival. I learn from his
friends here that he may be expected to be in Geneva about the time this
reaches you.
In my note I ask him to call upon you, as a friend of mine. He will of
course be unwilling to make any demands upon your time or attention. But
I should like him to see you, and perhaps he might through you pay his
respects to the savans in his line, notably to De la Rive. Having wife, etc.,
with him, and little time, his visit will be transient. Eliot is a chemist and
physicist, a man of much promise, we think, and a most gentlemanly man.
He is a very trusty friend of mine. He has passed the autumn and winter in
Paris, studying hard, and will soon return here, bringing the latest news of
you. He and his lady companions are just such people as we should like you
to know America by.
I should say to you, moreover, that I gave to another colleague of mine,
Professor Cooke, a note to you. He is a chemist and mineralogist, is full of
research and zeal, a most estimable man.
You know, perhaps, that I have made over (or am to make over) all my
herbarium and library to our university, in consideration of a fireproof
building made to receive them, and a fund, of moderate extent, raised for
the permanent support.... During the summer or early autumn, my
collections will be transferred to this their permanent home, to my great
relief.
It is probable that I shall continue to spend upon these collections all my
available means, and I hope they will be of use in the future, as well as safe,
which they are not in my wooden house. My own donation is reckoned in
money value at about $20,000.
Charles Wright is expected home from Cuba soon, when there will be a
new and interesting distribution of his phænogamous plants.
We trust that our civil war is in its last year, that is, if we are victorious,
as we hope to be. In that case your American stocks will be all right again.

Nearly all the little I possess is cheerfully put into United States
government stocks, where I am well content it should be.
Small countries, which you prefer, would do very well if all were small,
but the few large, like England and France, will domineer unpleasantly over
the smaller. Just look now at poor Denmark, which has the misfortune to be
small, and so is made to suffer! All Scandinavia had best combine, and
build up a strong nation. Natural selection is hard upon the weak! However
it may be in Europe, you must excuse us for endeavoring to prevent, while
we may, even at great cost, the establishment of a European system on this
side of the Atlantic; so we must not fail to put down the Confederacy. We
shall, after that, in a quiet way, make the French emperor very
uncomfortable in Mexico; but we hope that country may yet be a strong
power, but not a French power.
Enough of politics! And believe me to be, with affectionate regard,
Ever yours,
Asa Gray.
Cambridge, January 30, 1865.
My dear De Candolle: ... This very day, I have received your envoi by post
of the neat little article on leaves of Fagus, which I had seen in English
dress, and the copy of Heer’s address. Many thanks to you. I have received
also, and thank you much for it, the “Prodromus,” XIV., I. I have this
evening read over Heer’s address. It is, as you say, capital. It interests me in
its proof of the antiquity of the present flora; and I admit that he very neatly
puts the case between his view of the production of our species out of the
older ones, and that of Darwin. Here it still rests: Darwin has the great
advantage of

DR. ASA GRAY IN HIS STUDY

being able to assign a vera causa. Heer has the disadvantage of having no
known cause to assign; but he shows that things do not appear to have
proceeded as Darwin’s theory requires. It does seem as if there were times
of peculiar change as well as of great stability. But were this time of change
and that of stability simultaneous for the species of a flora? And does Heer
allow enough for the species which now occur under many forms,—show
great polymorphism. I continually meet with these in the North American
flora; in which the dying out of some forms, and their replacing by others,
which may well take place in time, would, in effect, just give a change like
that to be accounted for. But I cannot say that these varieties come in
insensibly, very likely not.
Now, to speak of myself. My summer was much frittered away; the
superintending of the new building for my herbarium just preventing any
serious study. The autumn was devoted to the removal and rearrangement of
plants and books, and to assisting Charles Wright in the collation and
distribution into sets of his collections in Cuba for the last three years past;
very full and interesting collections, and requiring much care and labor, on
account of this distribution being a continuation of former distributions. I
laid out into the sets every specimen with my own hands, Mr. Wright

adding the tickets and numbers. It was an immense labor, and was finished
only at the close of the last day of the year....
I mean to prepare for “Silliman’s Journal” a brief and simple notice of
the edifice for my herbarium, so I will not speak further of it here; further
than to say that I am well satisfied, only I sadly need a curator!
And now, I turn to your letter of September 29, and ask your pardon for
having so long neglected it. Your letters, your reflections upon social and
political, as well as upon scientific questions, are always very interesting
and instructive to me. I regret that I can render so little return in kind....
As to our national troubles, the prospect brightens that we shall end the
rebellion and slavery before long. God grant it.
Believe me to be, as ever, my dear De Candolle, very faithfully yours,
A. Gray.

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

February 14, 1865.
... Wright is here, distributing and finishing up his North Pacific
Expedition Collection; ... will return to Cuba in a month or two, to take a
year or two more there, revisit some old parts and explore some new; then I
urge Hayti, but Wright seems rather loth.
Rothrock—from northwestern Pennsylvania—is a bright lively pupil of
mine for last three or four years, when not serving his country in the army,
where he has done good service as private in infantry, and as captain in
Pennsylvania cavalry, etc. He had to leave his thesis partly unfinished. But
the real credit of all belongs to him. His father is M. D., and he is now
studying medicine, attending lectures at Philadelphia. But botany is in him,
and will probably come out....
There, I believe this is about all. J. A. Lowell has made a nice present of
costly botanical books, of which more anon.
[March 18.]
... Rothrock is going with Kinnicut this week, to Northwestern America,
Norton’s Sound, etc., to explore on telegraph route close along the Arctic
Circle. Any pines there you want?...
March 29.

... No, Mrs. Gray did not go to inauguration ball. But she has had a good
time. Her brother, the general, took her from Fortress Monroe, where she
went, up to the front and close to rebel lines; where she had the honor of
having a rebel shell thrown at her!
I expect her home again to-morrow.
No, I don’t get a curator, and I want one sadly. Yet it is as well Fendler
did not come, as it might have been difficult for me to pay him. He,
however, is just the man I want here, to take charge of herbarium and
garden....

TO W. J. HOOKER.

Cambridge, April 24, 1865.
Mr. Wright is about to return to Cuba, to have one year more of
exploration there, and especially to visit Turquino, the highest mountain of
the island, and some other parts which are still promising.
He will now be able—as he is always most ready—to attend to the
gathering of seeds of palms, or other seeds, or things you may want at Kew.
He has now some good and kind friends in the country, and deserves them,
for he is one of the most hearty, single-minded, and disinterested persons I
ever knew, as well as an admirable collector; but being rather rough in
exterior, he does not like to come into contact with official people, unless
properly accredited. But if armed with official instructions to British
consuls, etc., and so having the means of very promptly turning over,
without bother or uncertainty, whatever he may collect for you, I have no
doubt you may turn him to excellent account. Perhaps, however, he will not
long remain in Cuba; for there is a prospect of getting him attached
(nominally, without any emolument) to the United States consulate-general
at Hayti, so that he may explore the botany of that island, as he has done
that of Cuba. But I doubt if he will keep in the field many years more, or do
such hard work as he has done in former years. I wish him to explore Hayti,
however, and then associate himself with Grisebach in the production of a
Flora Antillana, or at least a Flora Cubensis, if Grisebach inclines to work
longer at West Indian botany, after having finished the critical enumeration
of Cuban plants (founded mainly on Wright’s collections) which he is now
occupied with....

It seems like old times to be writing to you. We have the less occasion
for direct correspondence of late years, owing to my having such a capital
correspondent, as well as a capital friend, in Joseph. I know not how I could
get on without him. I look with great satisfaction upon his splendid
scientific career, and feel that you must take great pride in it. I rejoice to
hear that you are so well and hearty, and at work with vigor, comfort, and
success upon the “Synopsis Filicum.”
Dr. Brewer[59] sends his regards. He goes this week to New Haven (Yale
College), to attend to the opening of his work as professor of agriculture. I
was running over his collections, naming and characterizing the new things,
and laying out a set for you of all you could wish. But since spring opened,
my college work has been so pressing that all else has been interrupted,
perhaps will be in abeyance till near midsummer.
I must not fail to tell you that our good friend Dr. Torrey sailed yesterday
for California! via the Isthmus, to return three or four months hence,
perhaps overland.
He is a much trusted officer of government, as assayer of the United
States assay office at New York, and the secretary of the treasury, knowing
that he needs some respite and change, has arranged this trip for him, upon
business of the department, by no means of an onerous character.
He has long wished to set eyes upon California, and I am glad he has
such a pleasant opportunity of doing so.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

May 1, 1865.
I have long wished to communicate with you, but it is long since I have
written any but pressing letters; a large and ever-increasing scientific
correspondence and various business matters absorbing all my leisure and
powers, as the times and events also absorb our thoughts. You can imagine
how deeply we have felt, rejoiced, and suffered during the last month or so.
Well, “treason has done its worst,” and rebellion, as an organized power,
is essentially brought to an end. Slavery is done away, and we have now the
task of establishing a new and better order of things at the South, of
replacing barbarous by civilized and free institutions. A heavy task, no
doubt; but the good Providence that has so wonderfully shaped our ways

and sustained us thus far, we humbly and confidently rely on to carry our
dear country through all its trials.
I doubt if you will have in England a full conception of the profound
impression which this last atrocious crime has made,[60] filling the whole
land with the deepest and tenderest grief, like that of a personal
bereavement; inexpressibly shocking, but never for a moment bewildering
the country nor deranging the action of the government. The manner in
which both our victories and sorrows have affected the country is most
hopeful, and promises the best results. There is much yet to do and to suffer,
and there is need of wisdom, patience, and sacrifice in the renovation of our
country, and the establishment of free institutions throughout the South,
involving as it does the complete reconstruction of society there. But under
God’s blessing, we expect full success in due time.
As to myself, I can say little now. I am quite overworked at this season,
but I hope that hereafter a rearrangement of my work in the university may
bring some relief.
I am beginning to enjoy the advantage and comfort of the establishment
of my herbarium, and the building quite meets my expectations. The
collections are fast increasing; faster than I can take care of them, through
the bounty of my scientific correspondents; while Mr. Lowell’s donation of
botanical books is of the value of about £300.
November 16, 1865.
Now do not be startled at a letter from me written the very evening of the
day in which arrived your pleasant favor of the 1st inst. For to-day I also
received the inclosed official letter, which has been lying, I suppose, for
want of your address. And so I send it forward at once.
In fact, the fund raised for the support of the herbarium (nearly $11,000)
has been till very lately retained in the hands of the gentleman who took
charge of raising it, in the form of a good investment, and is now at length
made over to the corporation of the university in trust. Your £5 I turned in at
the time when exchange was at the highest (i. e., our currency most
depreciated), so it figures as fifty dollars,—quite a sum,—and for it, as for
the rest of the capital, we get, up to 1881, six per cent per annum in gold, if
the United States government lasts. And we now feel confident enough of
that.

Your letters are always very pleasant to us, and that of to-day is very
gratifying.
Yes, we, too, should not have said this was the way in which we would
have had slavery destroyed,—by no means. We wished it by a slow process
which would have cost no life, injured no property, but benefited all as it
went on. But our misguided Southern brethren would have it otherwise, and
so it was. And it is something to be glad of, after all, that it was done in our
day, and we think thoroughly. I take a weekly newspaper, the “Nation,”
which is on the plan of the “Spectator” and the “Saturday Review,” etc., but
we have few good paragraph-writers, and our best writers will not write.
But this paper may interest you, at least in the letters of its correspondent
traveling in the South. I post some numbers to your address, and I will send
some more if you care to see them. Otherwise the numbers are thrown
aside, for I do not keep them.
Even here we have the same sort of liking for Palmerston which the
mass of English have, and no better reason to give for it; and we look with a
sort of fascinated interest upon Gladstone, and expect to see him premier
before long, in a year or two, and we wonder how he will get on in so
critical a position as he will be in. Goldwin Smith I met, but saw not very
much of. He was in very delicate health. Fraser I did not see, though he was
my father-in-law’s guest, and was very much liked by all. Both had troops
of friends. Mrs. Gray and I were in the country when Fraser was at Mr.
Loring’s house on the shore.
The short space left on my sheet must be all devoted to an earnest
exhortation for you to follow your two friends’ example. Come over and see
us, and make our quiet house your home, from which you can travel as
much as you like and see the country in this interesting phase. Pray think of
it seriously. The expense need not be great.
Mrs. Gray, with kindest remembrances, seconds my request, and wishes
it extended to Mrs. Church.
Cordially yours,
Asa Gray.

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

May 15, 1865.

Your kind letter of the 19th ult. crossed a brief note from me. I am too
much distracted with work at this season to write letters on our affairs, and
if I once begin, I should not know where to stop. You have always been
sympathizing and just, and I appreciate your hearty congratulations on the
success of our just endeavors. You have since had much more to rejoice
over, as well as to sorrow with us. But the noble manner in which our
country has borne itself should give you real satisfaction. We appreciate,
too, the good feeling of England in its hearty grief at the murder of Lincoln.
Don’t talk about our “hating” you, nor suppose that we want to rob you
of Canada, for which nobody cares.
We think we have been ill-used by you, when you thought us weak and
broken, and when we expected better things. We have learned that we must
be strong to live in peace and comfort with England, otherwise we should
have to eat much dirt. But now that we are on our feet again, all will go
well, and hatred will disappear. Indeed I see little of that.
I must look to the Plantago dimorphism, for, as you say, these plants,
fertilized by the wind, would gain nothing by being dimorphic. No
dimorphic species grows very near here, nor can I now get seeds of P.
Virginica. Perhaps a good look at even dried specimens, under your hints,
may settle the matter.
I was exceedingly interested with the Lythrum paper (but had no time to
write a notice of it), and I wait expectingly for your Climbing plants. You
are the very prince of investigators. We hope presently to make Mrs.
Wedgewood’s acquaintance.
July 24.
I am reading in snatches your admirable paper on Climbing plants,—as
yet only eighty-eight pages of it, and am watching with great interest all the
climbers I have at hand. What a nice piece of work you have made of it!
I see you explain and illustrate at length the double turn of a caught
tendril. Is it not enough to say that, with both ends fixed, if it shortens, say
by the contraction of one side, it must by mechanical necessity turn its coil
different ways from a neutral point?
Ere this, Mrs. Wedgewood should be back from Canada, but I have not
yet learned that she is so. She was to let me know, and we would have a day
on the shore, where Mr. Loring lives in summer,—a pretty bit of country.
But it is now too late.

I wish she could have been here on Friday, when we welcomed back our
Harvard men who had been in the war,—over five hundred of them,—and
remembered those who had died for their country. What a day we had!
Jefferson Davis richly deserves to be hanged. We are willing to leave the
case in the hands of the government, who must take the responsibility. If I
were responsible, I would have him tried for treason (the worst of crimes in
a republic), convicted, sentenced to death; and then I think I should
commute the penalty, not out of any consideration for him, but from policy,
and for his more complete humiliation. The only letters I have received
expressing a desire to hang him are from rebeldom itself,—from Alabama.
You see slavery is dead, dead,—an absolute unanimity as to this. The
revolted States will behave as badly as they can, but they are so thoroughly
whipped that they can’t stir, hand or foot, and we are disbanding all our
armies,—a corporal’s guard is enough to hold South Carolina. Seriously,
there are difficult questions before us, but only one result is possible: the
South must be renovated, and Yankeefied.
Well, take good care of yourself, and let me know that you are again in
comfortable condition.
November 6.
I am very glad to hear from you, and to see half your letter of October 19
in your own handwriting is a good sign. I do hope you may get a
comfortable winter, and bring out your next volume without breaking down.
I am pleased that you approve my abstract of your Climber paper, but
observe it was only of the first part of your elaborate article. But as to the
praise you speak of, I am sure you pay me back with interest.
I lately sent “Silliman” as much more—a large part, indeed, extracts,
which I could not shorten—on the Tendril-bearing part of your paper. But
Dana sent me the proof, with all my long extracts omitted for want of room.
This reduced my article to incoherence, so I begged all to be laid over for
the January number, when I hope to have room. I entertained our social
scientific club here with your article, and all were greatly interested.
As to climbing roses, they are the strong summer shoots, growing after
flowering, which I find frequently running their heads into dark corners of
the porch over my door, etc.
That is very curious, but quite what I looked for, that dimorphous species
self-fertilized should act like hybrids (sterile or dwarf, etc.).

You must publish these facts in some brief article.
“Stephens” (Stevens) was a New Yorker; is dead, years ago; wrote most
amusing and popular travels; in Egypt, as well. Central America was his
first and freshest book, but only amusing, as far as I recollect.
So Palmerston is gone. A fine specimen of a John Bull he was, a very
typical specimen. We Yankees can’t help admiring and liking him, though
not for any good he ever did us. But as for his successor, he is a prig, a
juiceless stick.
Don’t you think Adams pays him back nicely for proposing that they
should sit down and rejoice together over the abolition of slavery? Just see
how the world has moved. Turn back to Russell’s lecture to be read to Mr.
Lincoln on occasion of his proclamation of emancipation!
Good-by, my dear, good fellow, and recover health as fast as ever you
can.
Yours affectionately,
A. Gray.

TO CHARLES WRIGHT.

Cambridge, June 28, 1865.
I am not going on so any more. A letter from me you shall have. To be
sure I have had none from you since you sailed, but that is no matter.
College and garden and herbarium work together are enough to drive one
mad; but now the college work begins to hold up, and will soon be over.
And as to herbarium, Fendler has at length promised to come at the end of
the summer and help me—all winter at least, perhaps longer....
Oh, yes! I have yours of “Habana,” May 9th, with your shipboard studies
on the variations of Chapman and Grisebach. Well, sometimes one wrong,
sometimes the other; sometimes a difference as to who the author of a book
is,—Michaux, whose name is on the work, Richard, who wrote it incog.
I inclose my last from Grisebach. I am hoping to arrange to have the
catalogue of Cuba plants printed or stereotyped at Göttingen, for the
Smithsonian contributions, and have written Grisebach to cultivate his
Spanish influence in the view of having that government at length patronize
effectively the bringing out of a Flora Cubensis, by Wright and Grisebach.

You owe this letter partly to the general disturbance of an uneasy
conscience, and partly to a sudden cold caught by carelessness in hot
weather, which unfits me for more driving work. It is getting better. I hope
to write you again before I catch a new one.
July 4, Eighty-ninth Anniversary
of the United States.
Yours of June 9-21 reached me the very day that I mailed my last
missive to you, a good long letter. Here is a fine letter from you, showing
how busy and active a man you are. Pretty well for a man of your age to be
shinning up palm-trees, and barking your shins. Be careful! Grisebach will
take your criticisms all right, no doubt. Yesterday I got the inclosed from
him. Very well. Is the Cuban M. Sauvalle?...
Dr. Hooker has sent me a specimen of Welwitschia, that queer African
tree a foot high, many years old, and with only two leaves, and those all in
shreds....
September 5.
... Dear, good Sir William Hooker is dead,—of diphtheria,—on the 15th
August, six weeks over eighty years. I have no news yet from the family;
but learn indirectly that Dr. Hooker is sick, “a gastric affection.” I do hope it
is nothing dangerous....

Dr. Gray wrote for the “American Journal of Science”[61] a memoir of
his dear friend, Sir William Hooker, in which, after describing his immense
labors in publications of so many different branches, he says:—
“Our survey of what Sir William Hooker did for science would be
incomplete indeed if it were confined to his published works, numerous and
important as they are, and the wise and efficient administration through
which, in a short space of twenty-four years, a queen’s flower and kitchen
garden and pleasure grounds have been transformed into an imperial
botanical establishment of unrivaled interest and value. Account should be
taken of the spirit in which he worked, of the researches and explorations he
promoted, of the aid and encouragement he extended to his fellow-laborers,
especially to young and rising botanists, and of the means and appliances he
gathered for their use no less than his own.

“The single-mindedness with which he gave himself to his scientific
work, and the conscientiousness with which he lived for science while he
lived by it, were above all praise. Eminently fitted to shine in society ... he
never dissipated his time and energies in the round of fashionable life, but
ever avoided the social prominence and worldly distractions which some
sedulously seek....
“Nor was there in him the least manifestation of a tendency to
overshadow the science with his own importance, or of indifference to its
general advancement....
“To the wide circle of botanists in which he has long filled so
conspicuous a place, ... it is superfluous to say that Sir William Hooker was
one of the most admirable of men, a model Christian gentleman.”
Dr. Gray was appointed by Mr. Peabody himself a member of the “Board
of Trustees of the Peabody Museum of American Archæology and
Ethnology in connection with Harvard University” when it was founded in
1866. The Hon. Robert C. Winthrop, offering the resolutions in memory of
Dr. Gray, at the meeting in 1888, says, “From first to last, as I can bear
witness, he was a most faithful and valuable member of our Board; he was
always at our meetings and took an active interest in all our work. In 1874,
on the death of Jeffries Wyman, he voluntarily assumed the curatorship of
our Museum, and did excellent service until the appointment of Professor
Putnam.”

TO R. W. CHURCH.

Sunday evening, February 25, 1866.
The number of the “Guardian” followed closely upon your note of the
9th instant, and I have just risen from the reading of your review of “Ecce
Homo.” I knew nothing of this remarkable book, beyond having seen the
title. The notice in the “Spectator” had escaped me, or rather, through a
change in the order of circulation in our book club, that number of
“Spectator” has not yet come round to me. But I have to thank you heartily
for calling my attention to it, and especially for sending me your own
published and well-considered thoughts of it. I greatly admire your analysis
of the book, and what I thus learn of it greatly impresses me. I shall procure
it without delay. I long, not only to read it myself, but to put it into the
hands of some friends. Such a production is timely, and will be very useful.

I hope the unknown writer will go on, and as he goes on bring out, in the
same fresh and untechnical way, all the essentials of Christian belief. Even
if he does not, it will have great value as it is; and one will be curious to see
how he can fail to raise the superstructure which this foundation seems to
be designed to bear. I have long thought it very important that these subjects
and the whole range of connected questions need to be treated by a layman
from an unprofessional point of view, and quite apart from theological
language or conventional modes of thought, say by a lawyer of a judicial
turn of mind, or by a physicist or naturalist, who understands and feels the
scientific difficulties, and the prevalent state of mind, especially among
scientific people, which most divines persist in ignoring.
As soon as I get this book, and have attentively read it, I shall probably
wish to speak of it again to you. If I find that it does not receive notice in
this country, I will see that attention is in some way called to it. But I should
think it likely to attract attention in this country at once.
I have never thanked you for your letter of December 6, and for the
hope, faint though it be, that you may come over and see us some day. Pray
don’t give over the thought, and some day you may chance to bring it about.
Cambridge is not a bad point from which to sally forth in little explorations
of American life....
We have much anxiety as to what we can do with the South now we
have got it; and our President Johnson is not a Lincoln. The breach which
has just occurred, and which may cause great trouble, has been feared for
some time; and the blame is to be assigned in part to the indiscretion and
impracticability of a few of the advanced Republican leaders. We have
survived worse scenes and darker prospects, and shall surmount these
troubles, I trust, in time. But here things cannot always be done in the
wisest way....
I imagine Earl Russell is safe for a year or two, since no other minstry
could well be found to replace him. I should like, before long, to see
Gladstone at the helm.

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

... The small parcel from Andersson[62] has come. From him I have a
nice oil copy of the portrait of Linnæus,[63] painted by Madame Andersson.

Chapman[64] is here, excellent, loyal man all through; hates copperheads;
is soon going back, so that you can write him at Apalachicola for Junci. I
have told him what you are at with the genus.
March 20, 1866.
I have got Mann[65] well installed in Fendler’s place, and he is doing
well, doing botanical work, too, on his Sandwich Island plants; will bring
out an Enum. Pl. Hawaiens....
July 30.
Back to-day from a coasting voyage of four or five days, I find yours of
25th instant....
I have promised Clinton[66] I will go to Buffalo, to the meeting reviving
the American Association; then back home, to work, by 20th August.
About the Prussian war I think as you do. About domestic matters I have
not changed at all my mode of thinking, as I know. But no time for these
things....

TO CHARLES WRIGHT.

May 19, 1866.
... I am so driven, so distracted. Bless your stars you are not a professor,
and president of Academy, and have a botanical garden and no gardener
well trained, and have students, and everything. My correspondence all in
arrears, and I am getting hardened and don’t care....
You know I am always hard pressed and hard worked at this season; and
this year it is far worse than ever. Besides the bother of my classes,
unusually bothering on the new arrangement, there is a new gardener and a
great deficit or rather deficiency of funds to carry on the Garden, so I have
to run that concern pretty much myself. And, to crown all, my little new
French gardener, in his anxiety over the work, has got into a state of
nervous excitement, gets no sleep nights, and if not soon relieved will, I
fear, become truly insane.... If he continues half crazed, you may expect me
crazed next. Then there are some special scientific students working up
here, to add to my botheration.
So do not you “growl” at me now if you can help it....
Alas, your Algæ will be too late for dear Harvey. He is dying of
consumption, and we may hear of the end any day. This is all at present

from
Your old, worn-out friend,
Asa Gray.

TO GEORGE BENTHAM.

June 12, 1866.
We have as many asters as we can manage in America, and in the
northern hemisphere of the Old World. I pray you keep out at least
Australian things if it be possible.
I envy you more and more in being able to devote yourself to systematic
botany steadily, without the distraction and sad consumption of time in
professional and administrative duties and avocations, which make havoc of
the opportunities of most botanists, and make their work which they are
able to do far less valuable than it would otherwise be. And you work on
with such quiet determination! The lamented losses of the last year or two
have already made you the Nestor, though I cannot think you old. I do hope
you have a fair number of good working years yet, in which you can make
your great experience tell to utmost advantage....
Much against my will, I have this summer to work upon a new edition of
my “Manual of the Northern United States Botany,” to which there is much
to be done. I shall not, however, so recast the work as I should if I could
defer it till I had blocked out the outlines of a similar but much larger
volume for all the United States of America, and till your “Genera Flora”
had been carried much farther.
What do you intend for this summer? A Continental excursion?
Ever, my dear Bentham, most cordially yours,
A. Gray.
Dr. Farlow, in his memoir in “Proceedings of the American Academy,”
speaks of the great interest which Dr. Gray took at this time in observing
tendrils and climbing plants. The glass corridor then connecting the
herbarium and his study was very much occupied by climbers, and notes
were constantly taken of times of revolution, etc. He says, “Dr. Gray hardly
ever passed in or out of the herbarium without stroking (patting them on the
back by way of encouraging them, it almost seemed) the tendrils of the
climbers on the walls and porch; and on the announcement that a student

had discovered another case of cross-fertilization in the garden, he would
rush out bare-headed and breathless, like a schoolboy, to see the thing with
his own critical eyes.”

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

May 7, 1866.
I am so delighted to get a letter from you, written with your own hand,
and to see that you can work again a little.
I have no new facts about the influence of pollen on fruits, nor about
influence of grafts.
I have got a little plant of Bignonia capreolata growing here. I punched a
lot of holes into the shady side of a lath; the tendrils thrust their ends in;
also into a cornice, but did not stay; either the movement of the stem or
tendril, or, at length, the shortening of the body of the tendril by coiling,
which it does promptly, brought all away. I have stuck some cotton on to the
lath at the proper height for the next pair of tendrils. The tendril near by
stuck fast at once, and is beginning to develop the disks, and now the tendril
of the other leaf has bent abruptly round, and seized the cotton with avidity.
Are there any new observations I can make?
The Fenian scare, we have supposed here, was mainly a plan of certain
rogues here to fleece their poor countrymen and women, poor servants and
working-men! Nothing more could come of it. But I sadly fear many here
have enjoyed the trouble it has given and the alarm it has excited, especially
among our neighbors in New Brunswick, who rather enjoyed our woes two
or three years ago.
Yes, slavery is thoroughly done for. We have a bad set to deal with at the
South; and holding wolf by the ears is no pleasant nor hopeful occupation,
as the temper of the wolf does not improve under the holding. But we shall
jangle out of the difficulty in time, even with such a crooked character as
our President to deal with also.
Bring out the book on Variation soon.
July 3.
... So there is war on the Continent; really a war “for empire,” as Lord
Russell said our war was. Now our war was a simple necessity; this
Continental one a crime, in which all parties participate. I wish, but do not

expect, Prussia to be crushed as one result. I wish all her coast could be
annexed to Denmark! However, it is no affair of ours, being on the other
side of the Atlantic. And when a nation can get strength and power by
robbery, it will be likely to rob.
August 7.
... You should study Wyman’s observations in his own papers. He is
always careful to keep his inferences close to his facts, and is as good an
experimenter, I judge, as he is an observer. He has a new series of
observations to publish. I think that he has not at all pronounced in favor of
spontaneous generation, but I will bet on his experiments against Pasteur,
any day.

TO CHARLES WRIGHT.

November 23.
You may well complain that I neglect you. But—
1. I had, till now, nothing special to write.
2. I have been daily expecting to hear from Grisebach, and have sheets to
send you, or the copies via Westermann. But not a bit of it yet. The
conquest of Hanover by the Prussians seems to have annihilated Grisebach.
3. I have been, am so—busy is not the word for it. I can’t think of any to
express it. I suppose that I have now lying by me more than fifty
unanswered letters, though I keep answering the most pressing as fast
nearly as they come in. But the rest get neglected, inevitably. I read your
letters and follow your work in Cuba with interest. I want you to get all the
plants you can (but I see not that you can exhaust Cuba), and then come and
settle down here, and work up, as you only can, a nice Flora Cubana. That
you are bound to do, just as I am to do the Flora of North America. I see
some faint prospect that I may yet, and before very long, be able to sit down
to it. But you and I are bound to do these two things yet!...
The seeds I put loose in this sheet are Cinchona officinalis. Get the tree
introduced into your cooler region, that is, the Caffetals of east Cuba, and
the tree will be commercially important in time, and you will be a
benefactor of your species. Enough for once.
Ever your old friend,
A. Gray.

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

November 20, 1866.
Dear Engelmann,—Yes, I have a heap of unanswered letters from you. But I
have not one moment of time.
I have copy of “Manual” in printer’s hands up to Compositæ, and am
only now two days ahead; have been only two hours ahead day after day!!
It is awful! So much other work too!...
If I could get five hundred to one thousand more a year I would at once
resign professorship and salary....
I am well, never more hearty; but worked like a coach-horse. I have got
my fund raised for the Garden: small, but we have now clear $2,500 or
$2,600 a year for Garden.
February 27, 1867.
How much I am indebted to you! No one else who undertakes to help me
ever makes out much, at least to save me time and trouble....
I have not time to write details of the little I know about the National
Academy. But I have seen enough to make it clear that I should not be
taking any more responsibility about it. So last month I sent my resignation.
They have put me on the list of Honorary Members. The American
Academy is as much as I want to attend to, and I do my duty to society in
looking well after that....

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

September 10, 1866.
... The war near you was sharp and quick. Switzerland is as fortunately
placed as any small nation can be, when surrounded by strong ones; but you
see that in this world only strength can be relied on. See what indignity
small and weak nations have to suffer. I trust present peace may last to
consolidate a new Germany. But if not, you may have to dread a more
general upturning on the Continent.
October 21, 1867.
... Your analysis of the whole subject of rules in nomenclature I think is
sound and lawyer-like, or rather judicial, as well as judicious. There are

dangers and inconveniences on every side, and good sense and discretion
are needed in the application of these as of all rules....
Very faithfully yours,
Asa Gray.

TO GEORGE BENTHAM.

January 21, 1867.
My dear Bentham,—Many thanks for your kind remembrance of us in your
letter at the end of the year, which reached me only three or four days ago. I
avail myself of the first foreign post since to return, with Mrs. Gray’s love,
our heartiest good wishes to Mrs. Bentham and yourself, and I trust you will
be able to keep up yet, for a good many precious years, the steady botanical
work which you make so telling....
I have no doubt of the full and entire correctness of the principles you
work on; and the Kew Floras and the “Genera Plantarum” will more than
anything else determine the public botanical opinion and mode of working
for the next generation. But I suspect that there will remain after all a great
many monotypic genera (consider how many of the most distinct genera are
so, or nearly so); and I imagine it is best to work without prejudice for or
against them.
I dare promise I shall be satisfied with all you have done in Compositæ.
As to Umbelliferæ, I wish you joy of the job, and do hope you will reduce
the genera twenty per cent at least. I never could take the least satisfaction
in them. I never could collate our Umbelliferæ with European genera, and I
have no clear conception of more than half a dozen of our genera....
Ever, dear Bentham, yours most cordially,
A. Gray.

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

Cambridge, March 26, 1867.
This is to acknowledge yours of February 28.
You see I have printed your queries[67] privately (fifty copies), as the
best way of putting them where useful answers may be expected. Most of
them will go into the hands of agents of the Freedmen’s Bureau, etc. Others

to persons I or Wyman may know and rely on. I wish I had had them
sooner. My crony Wyman has been two months in Florida, but will be home
again before I could send to him.
I did not write the article in the “Nation” on Popular Lecturing, though it
contains so many things I have said over and over that it startled me. Then it
hits so many nails square on the head that I should think it could be written
only in Cambridge or hereabouts.
It is generally supposed to be written by a person in New York, but I
suspect a person near by here,—only suspect....
Yes, Magnolia seeds hang out awhile in autumn, finally stretch and break
the threads of spiral vessels. Whether birds eat them I don’t know. They
look enticing and have a pulpy coat, are bitter and spicy.
Shall I send you more of these circulars?
I shall send to Indian people too.

TO CHARLES WRIGHT.

April 2, 1867.
I sent your twenty dollars to aid the subscription for the starving
Southerners. There have been handsome sums raised for them in the
Northern States. But I am afraid you must get most imperfect and one-sided
statements of the doings of Congress by the tone of your letters, and
decidedly need enlightenment. It is the President, not Congress, that needs
to learn the Constitution and the laws of the land. And your Southern loyal
friends, if you could get voice of them, would beg Congress to take even
more urgent steps for their protection and defense by reconstruction.
However, things seem to be going on now pretty satisfactorily. The
President is sinking into his deserved insignificance, and the leading rebels
are coming out decidedly more sensibly than many of their professed
Northern friends. And we hope, therefore, that they may begin to give some
fair chance to the loyal men of the South to be heard and to get their rights,
which have been indeed shamefully trampled upon by the President and the
dominant party at the South....
I have not time to answer all your interesting botanical notes, and can
only thank you for them. I hope you will continue to keep well.

Our spring is late and wet. There is still quite a covering of snow in the
garden, and we have had a deal of it in the winter, and wretched walking
and getting about in every way. Happy you, in the tropics.
You ask who Austin[68] is. He was an old protégé of Dr. Torrey; lives
now in New Jersey, and studies Lemnaceæ and Hepaticæ.
... You will be more delighted than I am to know that the Democrats
have probably carried Connecticut. But I am not much the contrary; for the
Republicans are too many in Congress for their own good, or ours, and it
secures the defeat of Barnum for Congress; as it should be....
April 8.
I have been having a Sunday’s work over your plants.
It grieves my heart and will grieve yours badly when I tell you that your
boxes were put under a cargo of wet sugar, which drained into them, and
have ruined the collection.
... As to specimens to dispose of, say only one half or one third of the
whole mass is left fit for it. Oh dear! God grant you patience! Will you have
the courage to set to work over again?
I will try next to tell you what is worst.
Ever your disconsolate,
A. Gray.

TO WILLIAM M. CANBY.[69]

July 8, 1867.
My dear Canby, ... I am charmed with what you say of Dionæa, can confirm
some of it, and believe all the rest. Never mind the anatomy of the leaf now
—little promise from that; but do go on with experiments on feeding, and
record them carefully, and publish when ready.
I am going to send your letter to Darwin, who will be delighted, and will
probably suggest experiments. He has an eminently suggestive mind.
I suppose you know the slow way Drosera rotundifolia catches flies,
doubtless for same purpose, though it can absorb the juices only through its
bristles. I always thought it took in only the gases disengaged by
putrefaction.

If you don’t know the trick of Drosera, which you should study, too, I
will tell you, if you write to me at Sauquoit, Oneida County, New York.
Sauquoit, N. Y., July 17.
I have here yours of 13th.
If on leaf of Drosera rotundifolia, in good healthy condition, you put a
small fly—somewhat crippled is surer—the sticky pellucid glands will hold
him fast. By degrees (I have never seen it under ten or twelve hours at least)
some of the bristles outside, which have not touched the fly, will turn
inward and bring their sticky tip against the insect; later still others and
more external ones turn in, and so the fly is bound by many liliputian bands.
As it putrefies, I wonder if the leaf merely takes its chance of getting some
of the disengaged gases, or whether it reabsorbs the clear fluid of the
glands, charged now with some animal matter.
In transplanting some Drosera into a pan with wet moss, the older leaves
may not work well; but the new ones developed soon will do better. Pray
experiment upon this and Dionæa. I wonder if there ever were series of
intermediate states between the inefficient Drosera, and the expert
Dionæa....
August 21.
... I inclose half a letter which came from Darwin this morning. I hope
you will go on with work on Dionæa....
C. DARWIN TO A. GRAY.

(Half of letter referred to above.)

Down, Bromley, Kent, August 8.
My dear Gray,—I have been glad to see Mr. Canby’s interesting letter on
Dionæa, and I thank you for sending it; but unfortunately the facts are not
new to me. Several years ago I observed the secretion of the “gastric juices”
and the close adhesion of the two sides of the leaf when a fly was caught. I
keep my notes in such an odd fashion that it would take me some time to
find them. I am almost sure I ascertained the acid reaction of the secretion
and its antiseptic power, but I cannot remember whether in this, or in
analogous cases, I found its subsequent reabsorption. This letter fires me up
to complete and publish on Drosera, Dionæa, etc., but when I shall get time
I know not. I am working like a slave to complete my book.

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

July 6, 1867.
... Well, I have been free from much college work for ten days, and am
quite free after Wednesday morning.
I seem as well as possible, bright and clear, and should be content just to
visit my old mother and come right back to work on Californian plants,
which I have been looking at for a few days. But my wife says I shall take
four weeks, and on being weighed I find that my former 140-143 lbs. is
reduced to 131.
So I must waste time and money in traveling, which I am reconciled to,
as Mrs. Gray needs it much.
From Oneida County, New York, I am going (with Mrs. G.) to drive into
northwest and central Pennsylvania and then visit a sister in Michigan. Mrs.
Gray insists that we must go to Chicago, which she wishes to see, though I
do not. I hate towns, especially new ones. Only think how near I shall be to
you!
So you saw old Bigelow, who is quite delighted with Shaw’s grounds,
etc.
Torrey has just made me a little visit. Good, kind soul he is....
August 15.
We got home three days ago. Hot weather broke down my wife’s
courage, as I feared, and we went no farther west than Tecumseh, Michigan;
made a short visit to Sullivant at Columbus, then meandered through west
and north of Pennsylvania to central New York again, and hearing of Mrs.
Gray’s father’s illness came rapidly home....
I am very well; have put on three pounds’ weight.
We must go and see you and all the great West at some proper season,
spring or late fall....
I germinated for two years Nelumbium, but soon lose them. If you can,
send me some seeds this fall to try once more....

TO GEORGE BENTHAM.

October 14, 1867.

... Yes, I did receive your address,[70] read it hastily, and sent it to
“Silliman’s Journal” to be reprinted. It was too late for the September
number, but will be the leading article in the November number. I have read
a proof and am daily expecting a printed sheet, which I can send to you,
with one or two little remarks. I was exceedingly pleased with it; so is
Professor Henry. We both wondered how you could have so exactly hit not
one, but several nails on the head, as you have done. It will be much read
here, and will be truly useful.
You remind me that I ought to have criticised your working of Australian
Compositæ. The trouble is, that, except North American genera, these
things have long been quite out of my head. It will be unsafe for me to
approve or otherwise till I can get at work a little over them, which it is not
likely I can at present. I just fancy that in your dislike of monotypic genera
—which you abhor as nature does a vacuum—you may have lumped up the
angiantheous genera rather too much.
I am straining every nerve to get into a position to get at a synopsis of
North American plants, and my present work upon Bolander’s collection is
a part of the preparation. But I cannot lay the corner-stone till college work
is over, next July. Meanwhile I want suggestions as to form, and how to
condense references to the utmost and crowd a page, yet leaving it clear and
comely. When I have got the thing blocked out, and have worked up a part,
then Mrs. G. and I hope to go over and see you, and to stay a good long
while. Adieu, till next week.
Ever yours,
A. Gray.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

December 5, 1867.
Before the year closes I mean you shall have a note from me, to renew
on my part an intercourse which has been interrupted through negligence of
mine. I find I get more and more overloaded as I grow older, and I dare say
you find it the same. Still we must exchange a word now and then.
I have to tell you of the severe loss we have had in the death, in October,
of Mrs. Gray’s good and kind father, Mr. Loring. He and my wife were very
much to each other, and in former years had been unusually intimate

companions; and his death at seventy-three, quite unexpected till within a
few weeks of the event, is very much felt. Mrs. Gray’s own health, too, is
but poor, though on the whole I trust it is becoming firmer.
If you see your friend Mr. Fraser (whom I, unfortunately, did not) you
may learn from him what manner of man Mr. Loring was. I wish I knew
him, to say to him how highly we value a letter he lately addressed to Mrs.
Loring, and which I read yesterday,—so full of sympathy and just
appreciation.
Mr. Fraser, you may be sure, is very much thought of here.
I hope that Dr. Hooker, of Kew, has sent on to you the numbers of the
“Nation,” which I have for a year or more regularly posted to him,
originally requesting he should do so. But it is quite likely the busy man has
forgotten all about it.
For myself, I have passed my fifty-seventh anniversary, in firm health,
feeling my age only in a treacherous memory—as respects names, etc., not
as to events or friends. The memory of our delightful visit to Oxford is ever
fresh.

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

February 24, 1868.
The other evening here I discoursed at our private club, by giving them
an abstract of the chapters on Inheritance and Pangenesis; the former for
Professor Bowen’s benefit. He and Agassiz took it all very well; and
pangenesis seemed to strike all of us as being as good an hypothesis as one
can now make....
On inside of leaf of Dionæa see the copious glands for secreting gastric
juice.
... I do not wonder at your book[71] being taken up at once, by the great
numbers of people who need and understand it, and the thousands who
jump at anything written by so notorious a writer as you are. The “Origin”
will sell anything; and I believe people will get more for their money in this
book than in even that, if they care for facts, which generally they do not.
May 25.
I want to write you a long letter, but the time is not to be had now. Many
thanks for yours of May 8.

My notice of your book in the “Nation” was not intended to have
anything in it, except for the groundlings; was only to make the book
known and understood, a light affair.
My preface was written at the publishers’ request simply because yours
had not come. The fellows put in both. The edition is not very nicely
printed. Judging from the newspaper notices I think the book is taking
famously. That agricultural newspaper is taken by the hundred thousand in
the country. As to close of my article, to match close of your book,—you
see plainly I was put on the defense by your reference to an old hazardous
remark of mine. I found your stone-house argument unanswerable in
substance (for the notion of design must after all rest mostly on faith, and
on accumulation of adaptations, etc.); so all I could do was to find a
vulnerable spot in the shaping of it, fire my little shot, and run away in the
smoke.
Of course I understand your argument perfectly, and feel the weight of it.
We were intensely amused at the Edinburgh man, who suggests that I
could easily smash you into little pieces! I wish he may live to see it done!
I am half dead with drudgery, half of it at least for other people; see no
relief but to break up, and run over, with wife, who needs a change, to your
side of the water for a good long while.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

June 22, 1868.
I have to send you—in a hasty line—my best thanks for remembering
me so kindly: 1. In your letter of January 17, which I am so tardy in
responding to.
2. The copy of Hooker edited by you, which I was pleased to have.
3. Your sermon at St. Mary’s, which Mrs. Gray and I both read with
much interest. I admired your handling of an important topic, and the solid
strength which comes from moderation of statement. It reminded me much
of one of our best sermonizers here, who, though a good deal heterodox (I
am sorry to say), treats such subjects more impressively than any one else
and much in that way, his guarded understatements or concessions telling
heavily in the argument.

I read and think of nothing but botany of late, having been too hard
pressed for a long while. But last Sunday I read with interest the latter part
of Mr. Gladstone’s essay on “Ecce Homo.”
There is something which seems to me very admirable and attachable
about Gladstone. I wonder if his church friends and supporters will mostly
drop him at the coming struggle, for his action looking to the
disestablishment of the Irish church.
But the gist of my present note is to say, that I have got a year’s leave of
absence, and Mrs. Gray and I expect to cross over to England in two
months.
I find I must break up a set of engagements and of work, mainly for
others, which absorbs too much of my time, and Mrs. Gray’s health makes
me anxious to avoid another winter here, at present. The change will be
good for us both. We mean to pass the whole autumn in England, mostly at
Kew, and most of the winter in Italy and perhaps Egypt, where Mrs. Loring,
now on the Continent (tell Mr. Fraser), expects to be, and we may be able to
join the party, in a climate which may be advantageous after such a winter
as our last.
Very sincerely yours,
Asa Gray.

CHAPTER VII.

TRAVEL IN EUROPE AND AMERICA.

1868-1880.

Dr. Gray made his fourth journey to Europe in the fall of 1868. He landed in
September, and went at once to Kew, where he remained most of the time at
work in the herbarium until November. He made a short round of visits,
first to Mr. Church, who was then rector of Whatley, a village of
Somersetshire, where, with Mrs. Gray, he enjoyed to the full his stay in one
of the loveliest parts of rural England. They went also to Down to pay a
visit to Darwin, and with them went Dr. and Mrs. Hooker, with their two
eldest children, and Professor Tyndall. Those were days never to be
forgotten. In November, Dr. and Mrs. Gray joined some family friends in
Paris, with whom they went to Egypt and passed the winter on the Nile,
taking the longest vacation, Dr. Gray said, he had ever enjoyed. Upon their
return they passed through Italy, Switzerland, and Germany, where old
botanical acquaintances were renewed, and some persons seen whom he
had known only by correspondence. In England he again worked at Kew,
and repeated the visits at Whatley and Down, sailing for America,
November 9, 1869.

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

Down, Bromley, Kent, October 29, 1868.
In all these busy days I have neglected your kind letter of October 6,
partly in the expectation that I might be able to announce to you definitely
the time we should reach Paris. I can even now only say that we expect to
be there between the 15th and the 20th of November, and I think we shall
have just about those days (15-20) in Paris. If we can meet, very pleasant it
will be; but I dare hardly expect it. My own and Mrs. Gray’s parcels for you
shall be left at Masson’s in case we do not see you. I am making, with Mrs.
Gray, a pleasant week of holiday, most of it here with Mr. Darwin, whose
health just now is, for him, remarkably good.

I mean to keep you apprised of our movements; and we may, by some
nice adjustments, meet in Germany. At least, and best of all, in Switzerland,
which we shall be likely to reach at midsummer. But I have matured no
plans for anything beyond the winter.
... I should like to visit Montpellier and to see Planchon, but we shall,
when we reach the Mediterranean, be attached to a party, time will be short,
and our movements no longer free.
Bentham is working at Kew with his accustomed regularity and
diligence. Hooker’s time is much occupied with matters of administration....
It must be a great satisfaction to you, that your son not only takes to
botany, but shows so great talent. I hope the line may not fail, but that De
Candolle botanists may flourish in the next century as they have in the
nineteenth....

The death of Horace Mann, mentioned in the next letter, Dr. Gray felt as
a great personal loss, as well as a loss to science. He was a young man of
much promise, and he felt on leaving home that, in putting him in charge of
the herbarium and of the college classes, he could not have made any
arrangement more promising and satisfactory. He had counted much on his
future help as assistant, and anticipated that he would become a very
valuable aid in carrying on his work, for he had patience, conscientiousness,
and steady diligence. Mr. Mann’s lungs were weak, and his health required
care, but nothing of immediate danger was feared. But consumption
developed rapidly, and he died after a few weeks’ illness.
Charles Wright was also working at Cambridge, and took charge of the
herbarium and garden during Dr. Gray’s absence.

TO CHARLES WRIGHT.

Hyères, east of Toulon, November 29, 1868.
I had yesterday at Marseilles a letter from Mrs. Mann, conveying the sad
intelligence of her son’s death. Very sad it is....
My heart bleeds for poor Mrs. Mann, who was wrapped up in Horace,
and who feels it as the greatest of disappointments. To me, also, it is a very
great disappointment of long-cherished hopes.

I expect to find letters at Alexandria when we reach there. We sail from
Marseilles a week hence, going meanwhile to see some of this famous shore
further east....
Cairo, December 16, 1868.
Thank you heartily for your letter of November 13. I am here learning
some subtropical botany, seeing trees growing which you have in Cuba,
etc., Parkinsonia, Schinus molle, Carob, etc. Off up the Nile to-morrow....
In brief, I want to retain you permanently as my fidus Achates. You are
to have supreme control of the Garden. When I get home we will see what
can be done. You will have to cut off Cuba till then, but can work at Flora
Cubensis a good deal of the time. As far as my means can go, you shall be
made as comfortable as possible....
Arrangements were made to have H. sweep and keep clean the
herbarium, and Mrs. L. to scrub when needed. I fear the herbarium may
have been left to get dusty and untidy. Please take it in hand; ask L. as to
getting H., or some one, to sweep regularly; let no dusty work that can be
helped be done in the large herbarium room. Keep coal-ashes dust from the
fire from getting in, etc. Spare no expense and pains to keep down dust and
dirt....
As to dampness in herbarium, look out according to your judgment. Air
occasionally by leaving open doors of cabinets when a good fire is on, or a
dry day out. The north corner of the herbarium is the only place that
dampness gathers in, except the shelves next the floors. Well, do the best
you can. Good-by....

TO JOHN TORREY.

On board the Steamer Poonah,
Marseilles Harbor, December 5, 1868.
We started from Paris a few days before the rest, and before Charles
Loring had arrived. We changed the cold north for the bland south in one
night, going from Paris to Avignon, where I had the pleasure of showing J.
olive groves, old walled towns, and all sorts of mediæval things; then at
Nîmes I introduced her to the old Roman world in the well-preserved
amphitheatre and the beautiful temple called Maison Carrée, ruins of
temples, baths, pavements, and all that,—a charming place, of which I had

very pleasant memories almost thirty years old. Then, to revive old
memories, we went on to Montpellier; had a nice day with Martins[72] and
Planchon[73] (whose photographs, as well as Brongniart’s, I have for you);
then we came on via Arles to Marseilles, within an hour of the rest of the
party coming direct from Paris. They all sailed next day; we waited a week,
so as to get a view of this interesting shore, which we should not be likely
ever to visit again. So we went first to Hyères, where we first saw orange
groves laden with fruit and tall date-palms, and eucalyptus-trees forty feet
high, and all such nice things; roses by the ten thousand in hedges....
Toward evening on the third day, we took a carriage, drove through
Mentone along the coast road to Monaco; passing by the modern and
gaming district, we went into the old fortified town to lodge; went round the
ramparts in the morning, saw more agaves than ever before, and the steep
rock 300 feet high covered with opuntias, having stems as thick as my leg,
not to say my body. Next morning took railroad through Nice to Antibes;
visited M. Thuret,[74] the botanist, by appointment; a most charming man, a
French Protestant; his carriage waited for us at the station; a delightful
place, which made us crazy with delight, 3,000 or more species of the most
interesting plants growing in the open air, where frost is seldom seen; plants
and trees which starve in conservatories here grow to vast size; all kinds of
things I never saw growing anyhow before! Roses by the thousand. Oh,
what a delightful time! But after a nice déjeuner at two o’clock, we were off
soon after three to the station, and so reached Marseilles at nine P.M.
yesterday.
I have left no room to speak of the most sad loss of Mann, very sad.
How it will affect me I cannot tell now, but suppose it will bring us home
next fall....

TO R. W. CHURCH.

On the Nile, between
Girgeh and Dendera, January 3, 1869.
It is only by an effort of memory that I can recall that seemingly far
distant week, with which my narrative must commence, when we went, on
Monday, to Nice by railway, and on Tuesday (taking my college colleague,
Professor Lovering), by a carriage over the finest part of the Corniche road
to Mentone, and, dropping our companion there, three miles further to

Palazzo Orengo, just within the present Italian frontier; a house several
hundred years old, which Mr. Hanbury, our host, has recently restored and
is beautifying. It is near the base of a steep acclivity, projecting a little into
the sea and commanding a view of Mentone and Monaco with the
mountains behind and westward far beyond them on the one side,
Ventimiglia and Bordighera on the other, and seaward on rare occasions
giving a view of the mountains of Corsica, over a hundred miles distant.
One of those rare occasions, well-timed for us, we enjoyed the next
morning before sunrise, and again in the afternoon. All that day
(Wednesday) we enjoyed the place and its surroundings, and the pleasant
society of Mr. and Mrs. Hanbury. They are much liked by the people of the
hamlet and district, for whom they are doing a great deal, establishing a
school for girls, with the hearty coöperation of the curé. Wednesday, after
dinner, this good-will of the neighborhood was shown in a truly Italian way.
The advocate of Ventimiglia, having some business relative to land to
transact with Mr. Hanbury, stayed to dinner, and then asked permission to
read and present a poem which he had composed in compliment to Mrs.
(Catherine) Hanbury; it being St. Catherine’s Day. It was delivered with
Italian grace and fervor, and an Italian lady, now one of the family, told us
that the versification was very choice. Thursday, the grounds and house
were thrown open, and a collation provided for all the English people at
Mentone that Mr. Moggridge chose to conduct. Earlier I walked over to
Mentone to make some calls, especially upon young Moggridge,[75] whom
you know, and who, I am sorry to say, had been seriously ill, and was still
confined to his bed. I found him busy over the flowers and plants which his
most attentive and energetic father brings to him from all the mountains
around, cheerful and happy, but I fear he will hardly be able to complete his
illustrations of the botany of Mentone. Late in the afternoon, after enjoying
the picnic, a carriage took us to Mentone, and thence to Monaco, where we
slept, in order that the next day might not be too fatiguing to Mrs. G. Friday,
the railway, newly completed along the shore to Monaco, took us through
Villa Franca to Nice, and to Antibes, where I had arranged to have some
hours with M. Thuret (a charming man and excellent botanist) and his
incomparable garden.... The only thing lacking was the magnificent view of
the snowy Maritime Alps (of which I saw a sketch made by young
Moggridge) which the house commands in good weather, but which was
hidden from us by clouds and mist. We reached Marseilles and our hotel in

the evening; had Saturday for our preparations, and at evening went on
board the Poonah, which was to start for Alexandria early Sunday morning.
I need not say anything about the scenery of the region we traversed, nor of
the pleasure of first seeing date-palms and eucalypti, etc., and orange and
lemon trees in groves, laden with blossom and fruit, and long hedges of
roses in full bloom in December.
... Fine weather and smooth water from Sunday to Thursday evening,
especially during the long and lovely day which opened with Stromboli and
the other Lipari Islands directly before us, and the snowy summit of Etna in
the distance, and closed with the sun setting behind the southern base of
Etna, and an inverted pyramid of smoke resting on its summit. The day was
perfect, and, not to speak of anything else, Etna was in full view all day
long, except when hidden for an hour by the cliffs behind Messina. The
latter end of the voyage was uncomfortable enough, the sea very heavy, and
glad we were to land at Alexandria, Saturday noon, December 12, a
showery day, the streets deep with mud and filth. Early Sunday morning we
were off by rail for Cairo, where we joined the main body, awaiting our
arrival, and I had time for the English service in the afternoon, a bare dozen
of people; but Mrs. L. said the congregation was very much larger in the
morning. Monday to Friday we lived “Arabian Nights” in Cairo. If I let my
pen run on my story might be only shorter than the thousand and one of the
volume aforesaid.
On Friday, all being ready, we took to our boats, in which we have now
been domiciled so long, seemingly, that events of October and November in
England are dimly remembered, as if they belonged to another “dynasty.”
There are nine of us, in two boats. The first and larger one, in which our
table is spread, the Ibis, accommodates all the ladies and myself, the only
married man of the company.... The bow is occupied by the crew, and at the
very prow a simple cooking-affair, from which excellent dinners of four
courses, breakfasts, etc., are produced in some wonderful way by our Arab
cook and his assistant. The smaller boat, the Undine, gives ample quarters
to the three single men, also our dragoman, the younger Sapienza, a
Maltese, whose time, however, is mostly passed on our boat.
An independent party, but arranged to keep in company, consists of Mr.
and Mrs. Howland of New York, very nice people, with their servant and
dragoman, in the Heron. But I must cut short these details, or I shall never
come to an end. On Friday and Saturday the wind was dead ahead, and,

tracking being impossible until we get out of Cairo, we were stationary, and
on Saturday some of us visited the interesting museum at Boulak, made by
Mariette. Sunday, wind still unfavorable, until nearly sunset, when we got
up two or three miles, where we commanded a superb view. In the morning
you preached to the great satisfaction of your congregation of eleven, a very
appreciating audience. We established a regular liturgical service. I was
installed as curate; but Mrs. Gray read the first of your university
sermons.... Monday and Tuesday, and I think Wednesday also, the boat was
tracked, and so we made only a few miles a day, and some of us were much
on shore....
This [the temple of Abydos] was the first Egyptian structure of any
consequence I had ever seen, and it is very impressive. Most of the roofing
remains, and having been exhumed, for the greater part, within a very few
years, the colored sculptures covering the walls are very perfect and fresh.
They are in the best style, of the same age as those in the great temple at
Thebes, which we have yet to see.
Yesterday we sailed along slowly, to-day still more so, luxuriating in this
January weather, which is like our June at home, without any of its
fitfulness. To-day we had full service, and I read your second university
sermon, which all liked very much indeed, and have bespoken the third for
next Sunday. Your audience consists of eight Unitarians and three Orthodox
Presbyterians. By the way I was much gratified with the appreciative
review of your sermons in the “Spectator,” in a number which I received at
Alexandria. Thanks for the other papers you forwarded also. I think only
letters are awaiting us at Thebes (Luxor), but Mr. Hale may send up papers
by private opportunity. The mails taken by runners carry only letters. Our
latest intelligence from the Western World is barely up to the formation of
Gladstone’s ministry. I shall have a deal to read up. But here our days pass
on with scarce a thought of the modern and western world, except on
Christmas and New Year’s days. I wish I could give you some idea of our
life here, and of all we see and enjoy, but you must imagine it. We are well
supplied with books, especially relative to Egypt, are busy from morn to
night in a leisurely way, and are intensely comfortable....
We had yesterday for Dendera, where the temple, as to structure, is in
most complete preservation, but the architecture is of the rather debased
Ptolemaic period, and the sculptures on the walls, never equal, I imagine, to

those at Abydos, have been sadly defaced by the early Coptic Christians.
But all was very interesting, and the ladies were all with us to enjoy it.
Evening.—We are lying eight miles below Thebes, which we expect to
reach early to-morrow morning, and to receive and dispatch letters. So I
must close this. We are writing at nine P.M., with almost all the cabin
windows open. The day has been like one of July in England,—in one
respect unusually like, for the sky has been overcast with light clouds, and
the air sultry, ending as such a day might with a sudden and brief storm—of
wind only, though it seemed about to rain; but it is now still, and the stars
are shining out of a clear sky.

TO CHARLES WRIGHT.

Nubia, below Derr, January 21, 1869.
Let me begin a line to you from this Æthiopian region. The object is to
inclose to you some fresh seeds of Ficus sycomorus, the true sycamore or
fool fig,—not bad to eat. They were gathered at the first cataract of the Nile,
at ancient Syene, or between it and Philæ. I think you may like to send a
part to Don José, for culture in Cuba, where it will be a good thing to have.
And the rest, let Guerrineau try to raise some, that we may have one in the
conservatory. I shall send, along with heavy things, some nuts of the Doum
palm, Hyphæne Thebaica, which branches and is picturesque. That and the
date palm are the principal trees here. Besides, there is Acacia Nilotica (the
sont) and one or two other acacias, and an occasional sycamore. Below, a
jujube tree was not uncommon, and plenty of the fine Acacia (or Albizzia)
Lebbek, with its great flat pods and large leaflets. But none in Nubia. Up
here the cultivable valley of the Nile is just the slope of the banks bared as
the river subsides after the inundation, making a strip of green crops from
five feet to five rods wide,—all else desert, either rock or sand as the case
may be. We came twenty-four hours ago within the tropics,—a new thing
for me, and I thought of Cuba and you. But it is just comfortably warm, 70°
in the shade as I write,—has been 76°,—the nights down to 60° or so; just
nice and comfortable if you keep out of the sun, which, though seemingly
not hot, has an overpowering effect I never knew at home. Our winds are
steady from north and northwest, pushing us up the river steadily. About
sixty miles more, or may be seventy, is the second cataract, and our limit.
Then we turn our faces north again, and descend, making our principal

stops by the way. For thus far, we have stopped only little or briefly, taking
only such sight-seeing as came in our way or took us little out of it. Yet we
have had a glance at several of the greatest things. Abou-Simbel—the great
rock temples of this region, and the main thing to go up into Nubia for—we
hope to reach to-morrow or day after. We should have been there now, but
were delayed at Assouan by long negotiations before we could get put up
the Cataracts, and afterwards lost forty-eight hours by breaking the rudder
of our larger boat. No letters till we get back to Thebes (Luxor)—some
weeks hence. There I trust there is something from you....

TO JOHN TORREY.

January, 1869.
... At Luxor, on our way up, we stopped only half a day, and took our
first view of the great temple at Karnak. Left on the morning of January 8;
reached Esneh, the capital of Upper Nubia, in early morning of the 10th.
Sunday, passed the day and night there. The Ptolemaic temple, or rather the
first court of it, very perfect and thoroughly cleared out within, the columns
especially beautiful and all perfect. January 12, having sailed past Silsilis
quarries, etc., by night, reached Assouan before noon. Here we reached the
granite rocks and the basalt, and the next day visited the quarries whence
the obelisks and all the great shafts, blocks, sarcophagi, granite colossi, etc.,
have been taken during several thousand years, the last almost two thousand
years ago; and here are the chisel-marks and places cut to receive the
wedges as sharp and fresh as if the workmen had only just left off work. Of
course we viewed the obelisk left in the rough, only partly detached. We
were moored right opposite Elephantiné, and during the two or three days’
delay before we could arrange to be taken up the cataracts, or secure fitting
weather, the excursion up to Philæ was made by most of the party, on
camels or donkeys (I greatly prefer the latter), and the very picturesque
scenery enjoyed.
January 16 and 17 were grand days, going up the cataracts, our boats in
charge of the Nubians. The first day, Saturday, sailed up to the rapids and
were drawn up the first severe one,—a hard pull and barely room to get our
larger boat through; 17th, a quiet Sunday, in still water between upper and
lower rapids; under most picturesque surroundings of river, rock, and
desert, here strangely mingled, and a hot cloudless sun; had service and

much enjoyed Church’s sermon No. 3. Climbing one of the rugged masses
of rock toward sunset, had a fine distant view of lovely Philæ. Monday,
18th, the army of Nubians again took hold of our boats, and with noises
indescribable and persevering efforts the boats were drawn, one by one, up
the final and worst fall; we were in calm water before sunset, and at dusk
were moored close to Philæ, which we got charming views of, from the
opposite shore next morning at sunrise; came up and made a brief visit to
the ruins after breakfast, and sailed on with a beautiful breeze, when
suddenly, about twenty miles on, the rudder of the Ibis gave way (injured
probably in the cataracts), and for forty-eight hours we lay by near a Nubian
hamlet (climbed the mountains on Arabian side; got wonderful views of
desert, rock on this side, reddish-yellow sand on the other), while Antonio,
the dragoman, with rowboat went back to Philæ, and thence by land to
Assouan, whence on camel brought up new rudder-post, workmen, etc.,
reinstated the rudder, and—January 21, afternoon—we were off again.
Nubia is very different from Egypt, picturesque rocky ranges always
near the river and broken into peaks and pyramids, and all desert except the
narrow selvage reclaimed by irrigation with sakias; here the vegetation
(barley, peas, beans, and lupines) intensely green by the contrast with
yellow sand or light brown sandstone.
January 23, before reaching Korosko (whence caravans to Dongola;
visited their camps, very wild Arabs and blacks, and very disagreeable
white traders, Greeks, probably, with villainous faces) saw our first
crocodile, and sent two shots at once at him, but the huge fellow flounced
off the sand bank into the river, probably not much hurt.
January 24, first met with chameleons; got three or four from the boys,
but finally kept only one, which we still have here at Cairo—a lovely little
brute whose name is Billy, and a great pet; a great diversion to watch his
change of hues, and especially to see him catch flies by darting out his
slender, india-rubber-like tongue to the length of several inches (nearly that
of his whole body when the fly was far enough off), and with wonderful
quickness and certainty. Service in the afternoon, with Church’s last
sermon, and sorry we were to have reached the end of them.
But I shall never have done with our journey at this rate, and shall give
you not the least idea of it after this fashion; how some days we sailed on
with fair winds, which is very cheerful; some we tracked, and then we were

much on shore and mingled with the people; and often strong head winds
kept us fast at the bank, sometimes for two or three days, which grew
tedious. Well, on the 27th we came to the great attraction of the upper Nile,
Abou-Simbel; but the wind being fine and fair, sailed on at a great rate, and
reached our terminus, Wady Halfeh, next morning. Made next day
excursion to the farthest point, the high rock Abou Seir, which dominates
the second cataracts, and gives extensive view beyond, far into Africa; head
winds next day kept us at the village, which we explored and exchanged
hospitalities with the inhabitants, the poorer part of which were beginning
to suffer from famine. Later, going down, we met boat loads of corn for
seed and food going up from the viceroy for their relief; little enough to do
for a people so cruelly oppressed and peeled as the fellahs are. At evening
we could be off, the great yard and sail now down, and small mizzen in its
place, to use on the rare occasion of a south wind, and now we depend upon
the current and oars, five on each side, handled by our stalwart crew, their
strokes timed by queer Arabic chants; more severe labor than in ascending
(except when tracking) and not so pleasant to us as sailing; but yet we could
come down much faster than we came up. Whenever there was sight-seeing
by day the crews would usually row all night, so we got on finely.
Messina, March 24.
Behold us so far back towards Europe. Here, kept in by that strange
thing in our experience, a rainy day, and prevented thereby from going to
Taormina (Tauromenium) to see the Greek theatre, the site of Naxos, and a
near view of Etna, I resume my writing; which was interrupted a week ago
by multifarious things at Cairo.... I think I must go back to the diary, and so
try to tell you, in this mechanical sort of way, somewhat of our occupation
day by day. The bare names of the places must convey to you all I can hope
to of our seeings and doings.
February 1.—Reached Abou Simbel at daybreak, and were under the
great giant Rameses when the first rays of the sun touched their huge,
placid faces, and were in the rock temple within when the horizontal rays
entering the small opening for a half hour lighted up the great Osiride
figures to best advantage, and even reached the broken statues at the bottom
of the adytum. Later in the day explored leisurely and repeatedly the whole
interior chambers with candles, and occasionally with Bengal lights and
magnesium wire (the best of all lights), bringing out well the famous
sculptures that cover all the walls. Climbed the heights later in the day to

get superb views of desert and river and the sunset. Late in evening some
went again through the sand to see the great faces by moonlight, which,
however, they supplemented by torches. We were moored right under the
face of the smaller rock temple....
February 9.—Awoke at Philæ; of which I will only say that even Miss
Martineau does not exaggerate the interest of the whole, and the beauty and
picturesqueness of the site.
February 10.—All day at Philæ, and dropped down to Mahatta just as
the sun set gloriously behind the ruins and the mighty rocks which surround
them.
February 11.—The Ibis shot the great cataract, all but one of our party
being on the shore to see the exciting sight,—finer, it is thought, than being
on board, though you thus lose the sense of personal danger. We were taken
on shore round the trying points, and in our rowboats the rest of the way
down to Assouan, where we joined the Ibis, vociferously welcomed by our
combined Egyptian and Nubian crews, all rejoicing, as they well might, in
the safety of the Ibis, which had never done the feat before and was
reckoned rather large for the undertaking. Shopping, etc., filled the day. At
evening some of us called on Lady Duff-Gordon, living on her boat, now
lying here. I went back later and passed an hour more with her, taking her
some books we could spare her. Much pleased with her spirit and affability,
but distressed at the progress disease is making; do not think she can last
much longer, even in Egypt. Her last year’s visit to Syria injured her
seriously.
February 12.—The Undine came down famously at sunrise, and joined
us soon opposite the upper end of Elephantiné, where we went up to meet
her, expecting to round the island and be off at once down the river. But a
heavy blow from the north, and consequent great discouragement; we had
to lay by all day, not even getting on shore with any comfort, and almost all
night.
You must know that in Upper Egypt and Nubia a hakim or doctor is a
great godsend to the people, and you have to give medicine all day long. On
returning to Assouan I was met, when I stepped on shore, by the beaming
dark countenance of a papa, to whose son, whom I thought rather far gone, I
had given some medicine when going up; he had now brought down the
fellow from a village several miles off, to show me how well—or nearly

well—he was. Another widely grinning face met me, of a papa who had
brought me his boy with a dreadfully ill-looking sore head, which I had
dosed with mercurial ointment rubbed in with colza oil. He did not now
bring the lad, but came a good distance to recall him to my recollection by
expressive pantomime, and to say in the same way that he was “all right.”
Eye-wash I dispensed in profuse abundance; and among the men cured
several cases of ophthalmia which looked serious; and many a petty
surgical operation did the “Hakim-Pacha”—as he came to be called—
perform. I cannot tell you how much attached we got to our crews and their
officers, and before we parted I made sure that many tears should flow in
my behalf, by acceding to requests for eye-lotions, which were most
copiously used,—by those who needed it, for cure, by those who did not,
for prevention. Two sorts of creatures with which I formerly had little
sympathy, I have learned to appreciate and respect,—donkeys and people of
color, Arabs and Nubians especially. All idea of anything disagreeable or
inferior in color of skin disappeared, or rather the darker fellows seemed the
finer. As I remember sundry dark Arabs, they seem to me among the best-
looking and best-behaved men I ever knew. But this digression will never
do.... At sunset reached Edfou.
February 15.—Whole day at the temple, which is all but entire, and large
as well as complete, and the acres of sculpture and hieroglyph in excellent
preservation, all recently excavated under the care of Mariette and placed
under a custodian. If I could be dropped down in Egypt for one morning
only, to see only one thing, it should be this temple at Edfou, though only of
Ptolemaic date. I cannot stop for a single detail about it....
February 22.—Luxor: across river, tombs, Medinet el Bahree,
Ramaseum, again, etc. I and some others dined in the evening on boat with
our English friends (Legge, Eaton, and Baird), and celebrated Washington’s
Birthday.
February 23.—Boats dropped down to Karnak, had afternoon at the
great temple, tea there at dusk,—a famous tea-party in the great hall of
columns, all the dignitaries at Luxor and Karnak invited; the full moonlight
enjoyed for an hour or two, and then illumination with Bengal lights,
making splendid effects among the 137 columns, and other parts; then
rockets; some of our parties back to boat, the rest to a feast given by a
splendid old Arab, the chief of Karnak, in full Arab style, with music,
dancing-women, and all. Imaun Joseph, who had been our guest at the

temple tea, was his relative’s guest at this banquet. Lady Duff-Gordon’s
account of him had made him known to us most favorably, and we got most
thoroughly attached to the man, especially after having him to dine with us
next day, his smile, voice, and manners of the sweetest, and his character is
every way lovely. He is as dark-skinned as most American negroes, but
with very handsome features. All these experiences cannot be written, but
could be talked over at large. That evening view of Karnak is the one I want
to keep, so I did not go again; Mrs. G. did once more.
February 24.—Tombs of the kings; a grand but fatiguing day, most of the
time in Belzoni’s, the finest and largest; most of us did two or three more. I
came home over the mountains to get the fine view over the valley, etc....
March 4.—Siout: ascended the hill for the great view, from mouth of one
of the great old tombs; shopped in the pretty town; accepted the American
consul’s great attentions for the morning only (rich Coptic Christian
family), but tore ourselves away from entreaties to stay for dinner and
fantasia in the evening, in honor of the inauguration of the American
President, so secured the good wind and were off in the afternoon....
March 9.—Went over the site of Memphis; saw the colossal figure of
Rameses lying pathetically on his face, pyramids of Sakkara, Serapeum, the
wonderful Apis sarcophagi, and finally that newly excavated, beautiful
tomb structure, of date very early in old empire (fourth or fifth dynasty),
with paintings and low reliefs with truthfulness, spirit, taste, and fineness of
execution, much surpassing the best days of the later empire, and all free of
the grotesque mythology of later times. A fine treat to come at the last.
March 10.—Hard rowing against wind to reach Gizeh; went in carriages,
by road made for the Prince of Wales, to the Great Pyramid and its fellow. I
went in, but no one ascended,—too much wind; Sphinx, neighboring old
tombs, etc., etc.
March 11.—Cairo: packed and left the boats so long our home, and
good-by to the sailors.
March 12-18.—Cairo: must not forget one day passed at Mariette’s
museum, studying specially the fine things of old empire which he has
discovered and rescued. Had fairly enough of mosques, Moslem tombs,
modern palaces, etc. Sorry that slight illness cut off several things, notably a
drive to the site of Heliopolis, marked only by a single obelisk. Steamer

from Alexandria would not wait, so we must needs hurry off, our pleasant
party break up, etc.
March 19.—A morning drive at Alexandria, to see Pompey’s Pillar, the
Obelisk, etc., and so on board the Peluze; a beautiful evening, but blowy
weather followed,—a seasick time; and here we got, not Monday evening,
but Tuesday morning, boat gone to Naples the day before.... Mrs. G. badly
knocked up, and here is cold spring weather and fickle, weeping skies, so
unlike the thoroughly reliable weather which we had got to regard as a law
of nature; wherefore such freaks take us all by surprise. Oh, how we long
already for the dry air and certain sky of old Egypt!...
Taormina, March 25, evening.
We have done it, after all, or at least are in the way of doing it.... This
morning, when the sea looked rough with the recent gales, although the
very low barometer began to rise, I was not sorry when the Florio steamer
was kept back, waiting an overdue corresponding vessel from Malta, and,
though announced to sail to-morrow, I determined to wait yet longer for
smoother weather. Meanwhile it cleared off beautifully, though with
considerable wind. At four P.M. this afternoon we were off by rail with small
luggage needful, on the Catania railroad; an hour and a half along a coast
more picturesque than the finest parts of the Corniche road, though not so
grand, brought us to Giardini; whence an ascent of an hour up a zigzag road
in a one-horse carriage, commanding charming sunset views all the way,
old Etna full in view southwest, brought us to this queer perch. It reminds
us of Turbia, but is far more striking. We are in a primitive, but very nice
auberge; our window looking full upon the whole mass of Etna glistening in
the clear moonlight. On the left hand we look directly down upon the sea
and along the jagged coast; on the right Taormina Castle overhangs us
almost, the old castle or forts covering its narrow summit, probably 1,000
feet above us; it must command an extraordinary view. We shall see to-
morrow. Rather behind us lies the amphitheatre, on a craggy buttress
between us and the sea.
Morning; up at daylight, to the amphitheatre, to see sun rise out of the
sea and light up Etna, which was without a cloud. The theatre really a
Roman ruin, with bits only of the original Greek; the situation superb.... I
climb up to Mola, get a grand study of Etna from height of 1,500-2,000
feet, the clouds keeping off till I had done. Extensive sea and coast view,

but haze in the far distance. Descended on to the peak bearing the Saracenic
ruins of the Castle of Taormina, overhanging the town; and now, having
dined, and found Mrs. G. better, as well as desirous of warmer quarters, we
are soon to descend to the shore below us, and take train for Catania. This
place is very well worth visiting, and I am glad that I arranged as I did, only
sorry that I had to enjoy most of it alone.
Naples, Tuesday, 30th.
Found Catania well worth a visit; had pleasant Easter Sunday, and
superb view of Etna, and of its various former doings, sending its lavas
down to the sea in a tremendous way. Getting back to Messina, the steamer,
a little one, was off Monday afternoon; good parting views of Etna toward
evening; an uncomfortable night; we entered the bay at daybreak, and
Naples soon after sunrise, and are now domiciled in full view of Vesuvius.

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

Rome, April 22, 1869.
... I am thirsty for botanical news, after having laid aside the botanist for
a much longer time than ever before. Well, we were three and a half months
in Egypt, three months of it on the Nile itself, and we have avoided the
chills of winter and had a season of great enjoyment and interest. I passed
your friend Professor Marcet in Nubia, but missed visiting his boat, from
his sailing under the English flag, but hit upon that of Mr. Naville,[76] whom
we saw afterwards at Edfou, and were much pleased with.
Botany on the Nile is nearly nil, yet I collected a small suite of
specimens, as souvenirs. Returning, we had a most uncomfortable passage
to Messina.... In Naples and in the charming environs we passed a fortnight
and rather more, and have now had a week in Rome.
We are just now recovering the mild and charming weather which we
left behind in Egypt. We shall stay here, I suppose, only ten days more,
make a short stay in Florence, also in Venice, visit the Italian lakes, and, I
think, go to Vienna by way of Innsbruck, to be there the first week in June.
All else is uncertain, except that we mean to be in Switzerland in July....

Dr. Gray said he found more botany in a half day in the desert than in a
week in Egypt! A country cultivated for five thousand years had no weeds.

There were long walks and occasional excursions in Nubia into the desert
when the dahabeah was lying still.

TO CHARLES WRIGHT.

Munich, June 8, 1869.
... It is hurrying and distracting work, this traveling with a pair of nice
young ladies, sharp for sight-seeing, ... and a lot of botanists and gardens,
etc., you want to see on your own hook. So you will excuse all curtness in
letters....
At Munich we saw, of course, much of Madame de Martius,[77]—a
sweet, good soul, deeply grieved by the loss of her husband, and yet bears
up bravely. And we learned many interesting things about good Martius.
Notices of Martius’ death were sent, as usual, to all friends....
11th. Nuremberg is a queer old place indeed. We have nearly twenty-four
hours here, and go on the way to Dresden to-day.

TO GEORGE ENGELMANN.

Dresden, June 13, 1869.
I’ll tell you what our plans are at present. To stay here till Friday noon,
the 18th; Mrs. G. to be very quiet, as she cares mainly to see the gallery and
enjoy it leisurely. On Tuesday, I, with the young ladies, go up to Freiberg to
visit the celebrated mining school, etc., and on return next day, to see the
Forst-Akademie at Tharand. Friday night all to Töplitz, to pass two days
with a friend,—the Sunday’s rest. Monday to Prague, Tuesday to
Regensburg, Wednesday or Thursday to Munich, and Saturday evening to
be at Ragatz (or Pfeffers). Soon after at least Mrs. G. and I will be settled
for a while at Geneva.
Hôtel Byron, Villeneuve, July 15, 1869.
... Boissier has been seriously sick with a pleurisy, etc.; is at Orbe, or
was. If still there I should go to see him; but he has now gone to Gries, in
Appenzell, to a bathing-place, and I shall not see him.... Reuter, his curator,
was away last week, but I shall see him, I presume, to-morrow.
I have just lost my mother, at a good old age. My father died twenty-four
years earlier....

It is a charming place here. We are spending the morning lazily, and go
on soon to Geneva. The young people have gone on to Chamouni, which
we do not care to revisit.... Kindest regards to Professor Fenzl, with regrets
that I shall not see him.

TO JOSEPH HOWLAND.

Interlaken, July 26, 1869.
... We have had a joyful time in Switzerland, and for me a complete
rejuvenation. And as to Mrs. Gray, who did not need that, what we call “the
movement cure” has done her more good than all Egypt. That my
lamentable failure of breath on Piz Langarde was owing, not to advancing
years, as I had foreboded, nor wholly to the rarefaction of the atmosphere
above 9,000 feet, as Mrs. H. suggested, but to a violent cold, then
impending, I proved satisfactorily by walking the other day down from
Mürren to Lauterbrunnen (having walked up the eve before), and then right
on over the Wengern Alp to Grindelwald, and I believe as comfortably as I
did it (all but the first part) thirty, and then nineteen, years ago!
Weather has been all we could ask for,—this the first rainy day to keep
us indoors, and it now promises to be pleasant by noon, so that we can go to
Giessbach. Let me tell you what we have done....
Wife and I started Thursday, to Sierre, by rail. Friday, carriage to Visp,
and horses to St. Nicolaus. Saturday, char-à-banc to Zermatt, and horses to
hotel on the Riffel. Only my wife’s own pen can relate how she felt in flesh,
bones, and spirit after that, nor her surprise to find next morning that she
was “alive, and alive like to be,” nor her keen delight in Matterhorn, Monte
Rosa, and surroundings, and the profusion of alpine flowers. Sunday and
Monday on Riffel most enjoyable. Tuesday, Mrs. G., thinking facile
descensus inapplicable to such a steep path, insisted upon walking down to
Zermatt, which she did; a long rest at Zermatt, with pleasant English
friends, and a dinner enabled us to go in char to St. Nicolaus to sleep, taking
a small thunder-shower in the way.
Wednesday, “we still live,” and go on horses, through two showers, to
Visp again, and then carriage to Sierre and rail down to Hôtel Byron, to get
charming view and sleep.
Thursday, all fresh comparatively, and go in a chaise to Chillon, and then
back to our pleasant quarters in Hôtel de la Metropole, Geneva. Here we

rest, see friends, and do botany till Tuesday last.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

London, August 22, 1869.
... With all my endeavors I could not get off a note to you by yesterday’s
(Saturday’s) post, and so shall be late in announcing to you our prosperous
return to England. We left Paris on Thursday, reached Amiens in time to
visit the cathedral, a most striking specimen of fullest-flowered Gothic, saw
it again on Friday morning, and, after a smooth crossing, got to London
before sunset. Yesterday I had to go to the banker’s, to Kew, and to see our
Harvard men at Putney.[78] I must now needs be with them on their trial
day; and then, tell me frankly if it would perfectly suit Mrs. Church and
yourself if we came to you on Saturday (28th) for a few days. Later would
serve us, if you prefer....
After that I hope we can get settled at Kew, and do some work, for which
I have little enough time left.
As to Exeter meeting of British Association, I am on the whole glad
enough to keep away, especially from Darwinian discussions, in which I
desire not to be at all “mixed up” with the prevailing and peculiarly English
materialistic, positivic line of thought, with which I have no sympathy,
while in natural history I am a sort of Darwinian.

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

Kew, [Charlton House], September 20, 1869.
The skies were propitious to us in Switzerland, and the only very warm
day was the one which we passed, very pleasantly indeed, with Godet at
Neufchâtel. Thence we went to Paris, stopping at Dijon en route....
Oliver and Baker are here steadily at work. Dr. Masters[79] drops in now
and then. Dr. Hooker, after some respite, was at home. Dr. Thomson
returned last week; and now Bentham is here also, fresh from the Continent.
At British Museum I find Dr. Carruthers[80] and the new assistant, Dr.
Trimen. Mr. Bennett still, I think, away on his holiday. Botanical and other
news I have none. I send you this mere apology for a letter, in the hope of
getting something from you; and later I may have more to say. Can I be of
any use to you here?

Remember me kindly to Dr. Müller,[81] to whom best thanks for all the
friendly services which he has rendered me.
Our united kind regards to Madame De Candolle, and to your son (from
whom I still expect a photograph), and my wife’s to yourself. We have the
most pleasant recollections of our brief visit to Geneva.
Believe me ever your devoted
Asa Gray.

TO GENERAL HOWLAND.

Kew, October 3, 1869.
I don’t know when you would get a response to your welcome letter of
August 22, which reached us here in due course, so long as things went on
in the ordinary way,—I working at botany as much as possible, but
presiding here over a considerable household, some sight-seeing and much
intermittent visiting. But now that I am all alone, and my wife with the rest
of them girareing over the north of England, sober reflection has its hour,
and I remember the friends that are far away, perhaps on the shores of
Italian lakes, and long to know how they get on and what they are about. To
attain which knowledge and put myself en rapport I should first, I know,
give you some account of ourselves and our doings.
But where to begin? I think we wrote you from Paris. We had three
weeks there, I mostly at the Jardin des Plantes till near dinner-time....
For ourselves, after cool weather in Paris we came in for a piece of very
sultry weather in London, where we had to stay awhile, our lodgings here
not being available till about 15th September. So after staying to the
Harvard boat-race,—which I saw from the umpire’s boat, and Mrs. Gray,
with good Miss S., from some grounds above Fulham,—we set off on a
little round of visits, first to the Darwins’, near Bromley, then to the
Churches’ in Somersetshire, a pleasant country rectory and a delightful
couple. You remember the university sermons we had up the Nile were his.
Next we passed a day with an old bachelor botanical acquaintance near
Taunton, who makes a capital squire; then to Torquay for three days (with a
daughter of Sir William Hooker, and her husband, Dr. Lombe), one of
which I devoted to an excursion down the river Dart from Totness to
Dartmouth (which the English think much of, but you dwellers on the

Hudson would not), and to a view of that quaint little town. On our way
back we had an hour at Exeter to see the cathedral; a night and morning at
Salisbury, the cathedral as to exterior, site, and all, and beautiful spire, one
of the most satisfactory in England; took a glance at Wilton, a peep into old
George Herbert’s little church of Bemerton and into his house and garden;
stopped over a train at Romsey to see the fine Norman abbey church, and to
Winchester, most interesting cathedral as to the interior, Winchester school
and the old Hospital of St. Cross. Then, on returning to London, we settled
down here, and after a few days were joined by the rest of our party from
France.
... No one in England recognized me with my venerable white beard!
Ever, dear Howland, your affectionate
Asa Gray.
The winter Dr. Gray spent in Egypt, in 1869, he raised a full beard,
which so changed his appearance that, though eyes and voice were there,
his oldest friends did not know him on his return, and he had great glee in
imposing himself on his old friend Dr. Torrey, when he went to the station
to meet him in Boston, as a persistent hack-driver. Even when he declared
himself, Dr. Torrey would scarcely believe him; he and Professor Henry
always maintained a man had no lawful right so to change his outward
appearance after middle age.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

Kew, October 6, 1869.
... A week ago Saturday Mrs. G. and I went down via Warwick to
Stratford-on-Avon, where we had never been, with Professor Flower,[82] to
visit his father and mother, whose house (almost always thronged by
Americans), a short mile out of Stratford, commands one of the most
charming and wholly English views (that of English landscape-painters).
On Monday morning Loring and the girls, who had passed the Sunday at
Warwick, drove down and took us up, and we saw the Shakespeare
memorials, even to Anne Hathaway’s cottage (all but myself, who studied
brewing instead), and back to “The Hill” for a lunch-dinner. Then they took
my wife and departed to pass night and next day at Warwick. At evening I
went by a direct train to Oxford to sleep, seeing first Professor Rolleston[83]
for a moment. And, breakfasting with him and his agreeable wife next

morning early (his windows command a lovely view), set about seeing all
the structures, etc., that have sprung up since the almost twenty years that
have passed: the Museum and its workings, the Ratcliffe turned into an
admirable reading-room, chapel of Exeter, also Balliol, new buildings of
Christ Church, etc. I did not fail to look in upon the quadrangle of Oriel,
also, to ask for Mr. Burgon, but he was in France. After lunch I took train,
and was in Kew soon after sunset. Since then I have been away one day and
one night, with Mr. Rivers of Orchard-house fame, at Sawbridgeworth,
Herts....

TO JOHN TORREY.

Kew, October 11, 1869.
I am now almost through with my examination of the Polemoniaceæ, for
which I brought over all mine here. I have got them into good shape, settled
many things only to be determined here, and have a clear and definite idea
as to what I would do with the genera, and have straightened out the
species.
October 31.
After so long a drought—as happens in some climates—when the
change comes, you pour refreshingly. But with all your three rapidly
following letters not one of them makes the least reference to my letter,
written for one special purpose.
Bennett is as pleasant as ever. When I go up next to British Museum I
will give your regards.
Old Gray (J. E.), who has ever been particularly kind to us, has had a
paralytic stroke, which, with other infirmities, seemed about to close his
life. But he is wonderfully rallying....
How glad we are about the grandchild, and what real comfort and delight
you will have with the little fellow! And then the satisfaction of having your
name go down in the direct line. Why, he may be a botanist, or at least a
chemist, and add honor to the name in another generation. Please give, with
our love, our united congratulations to the happy papa and mamma.
We have been corresponding with Carey, and shall see him soon.
The sheet is full; so adieu for a few weeks. Ever your affectionate
A. Gray.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

Queen’s Hotel, Liverpool, November 8, 1869.
We broke up our establishment at Kew, this afternoon, and are having
the night here, preparatory to embarkation. Before leaving Kew I received
the proof of your sermon,[84] and here I found your last note, and Loring
another proof-copy of the sermon; for which he sends best thanks.
So you have been again to Windsor, and this time, I trust, had her
Majesty in the congregation....
Loring, the young ladies, and myself had the Sunday at Canterbury, our
last cathedral, and a most interesting one, both in the sight and the
associations. We have Stanley’s “Memorials” to read up, with other things,
on the voyage, if the Atlantic will allow it.
Wednesday morning.—Off Irish coast; shall reach Queenstown before
noon; very smooth water, especially since we were out of the St. George’s
Channel. We are all doing very well, though some of our party, including
Mrs. Gray, are poor creatures on the water.
I have read over the sermon with real interest. What I much like in it is
the broadness of view and moderation of claim, which adds strength to the
argument. It seems to me that every Christian man, churchman or no, would
yield full assent to all you say.
And, dear Mr. Church, consider that all your friends think, no doubt, as I
do, that you are hardly at liberty to take counsel of your misgivings and
humility, if asked to take some position in which your gifts may tell more
directly upon educated men, especially the younger men. I don’t want to see
you in a position which brings cares and anxieties along with high honors;
these I do not covet for you in the least. What I covet for you is fruitful
leisure, some position for you which, while it gives you time, and income
enough to supply real wants, makes also some demands; for rarely does one
do anything to much purpose that he is not somehow constrained to do.
We leave behind us in England most delightful friends, and we are not
likely to forget them; but we are somehow drawn to you in a peculiar way,
and shall often be thinking of you and yours when settled down again, if it
please God that we may be, at our pleasant home on the other side of the
Atlantic.
Cambridge, Mass., November 23, 1869.

Just a line to tell you—which you will be glad to know—that we safely
accomplished our voyage home, landing yesterday morning [Monday]
early, on the thirteenth day. Very well for that vessel, the slowest of the line,
and at this season, with much head wind. No gales, but some stiff breezes,
and the vessel tumbled and rolled about, to our discomfort. However, it is
all over; and Mrs. G. and the other ladies, who suffered a good deal, are
looking brighter again.
My wife sends kind love to you and all yours, and the young people, if
they knew of my writing, would send kind and grateful messages. The
voyage now seems to me only as a disturbed night’s sleep, dozing off in Old
England to awake in the New.
Ever yours affectionately,
A. Gray.

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

Cambridge, February 14, 1870.
My dear Darwin,—Being eve of post-day we respond at once to yours of
the 27th January—which arrived this very morning—lest you should send
us down to posterity with a fabulous dog-story.
I well remember telling you of our “Max”[85] and his habit of washing
cat-fashion; which you suggested might have come from being brought up
with a cat, and I think I told you that I had not been able to learn definitely
whether that was the case or no. Here, you see, by some shuffling of
memory, a suggestion of what might explain a fact has taken the place of
the fact itself. I am curious to know if it be true, for it is the only
explanation I can think of.
I trust you have some of the slender-leaved Drosera I sent through
Hooker.
Well, our homeward voyage was not a nice one, especially for Mrs.
Gray, and it now seems a long time ago. I dropped at once into a world of
work; but am not killing myself. The main struggle for existence will come
in the spring, when my duties crowd on me dreadfully.
It gave us both very great pleasure to see again Mrs. Darwin’s well-
known handwriting, and your signature.

I knew you would be pleased with young Agassiz and his Yankee wife. I
wish his health were better; and I do hope your own will be such that you
can next summer see and know my trump of a colleague J. Wyman.

TO GEORGE BENTHAM.

Cambridge, March 28, 1870.
... You hope that I will not resign my chair here unless to devote myself
wholly to botanical work. What other object could I have in view? I am not
likely to be idle, and I care for nothing else. The difficulty is, that the
university cannot well spare me now, nor find a fit person to take either the
whole or a part of my work, but there is a good disposition to favor my
views.
Charles Wright is helping me as curator of the herbarium, and is getting
the large accessions into it—rather slowly.
The winter is nearly passed; I have employed diligently all the time I
could command, but the net result looks small. All I have for the printer is a
revision of Eriogoneæ, which I have turned over to him, and which you
shall soon see. I think I have done it very well. I have in Eriogonum made
use of a character which you have not employed, i. e., the attenuation of the
base of the flower into stipes, which marks the umbellata and the eriantha
well, and I have increased the number of the sections. The species I have
actually diminished from eighty-one to seventy-nine, although several had
been added to those in the Prodromuses, and I have added half a dozen
myself.
I should have written to you long ago, but as you would always have
news of me through Hooker, and I had nothing special to say, I refrained. It
is always a pleasure to hear from you, and I have no idea that our long
correspondence should drop. I should have seen more of you and Mrs.
Bentham (and my wife, too, regretted much), but you were much laid up
with that sciatica, and we were dreadfully pressed at the last. Could we have
had this winter in England, as we had at first hoped, it would have been
well.
Torrey made me a visit in January; is well and happy, except that he gets
only odds and ends of time for botany, and so cannot do anything to much
purpose. The Eriogoneæ being a pet group of his, and his old sketches very

useful in my elaboration, I have joined his name to my own in the paper I
am now printing.
At the wonderful rate you are going on you will soon complete the
“Flora Australiensis.” Happy and fortunate man that you are, both in the
faculty of accomplishing work and in having your whole time for just what
you want to do.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

Cambridge, Mass., U. S., February 15, 1870.
My dear Church,—My good wife has just handed me these sheets for Mrs.
Church, and if it were not just on post-morning I should gossip with you, I
suppose, to the extent of a sheetful, and send you our hearty thanks for your
most kind and welcome Christmas letter,—the acknowledgments for which
have been deferred too long already.
For myself, I have had three or four delightful weeks out of our short
winter vacation, which have been given wholly to botanical work in my
study. But this week begins again my round of official duties, to continue
till July.
I rather weary of it as I grow older; and still more I grudge the time. I
could now, I see, make fair arrangement for relinquishing a large part of my
work in the university if there were some one ready to come in as a
colleague or suffragan. But the person wanted is not to be found, and it will
take a long while to hatch and raise one. We shall see.
I keep up all my lively interest in English affairs. But I do not get the
items of news now as early as I used to do when the “Gardener’s Chronicle”
had a news-sheet attached. I do well enough in the scientific line, however,
as I see both “Nature” and the “Academy.” The former should bear for its
motto “Natura non facit saltum;” it does not jump at once to perfection; the
articles are many of them rather weak and washy. The “Academy” in its
way seems better. The “Athenæum” (which I hope will revive, now that
Dixon is out of it), the “Saturday Review,” and the “Pall Mall Budget”
come to us in our book club, after a while, in our turn.
So Temple, having carried his point, is now making his over-active
opponents look a bit foolish by preaching earnest orthodox sermons. And
Gladstone has done a (to me not unexpected) thing which gratifies his

friends here, in giving to Mr. Fraser the see of Manchester; I had not heard
of the death of the former incumbent when the news of this offer came.
What a run Gladstone is having in the way of church patronage! Then the
memorial from both universities themselves for the abolition of religious
tests! How you are getting on! And how are you to manage to secure proper
religious influence at the universities? By moral power and the strength of
your cause alone? which may, after all, be more truly effective than statutes.
Yet there will be natural anxieties.
Pray give me, now and then, an inside view of what is going on, or
better, what is thought.
Why, here is my sheet filled and nothing said. I have nothing to tell you
from here—nothing worth sending you. I don’t think much of Lowell’s
“Cathedral.” The grotesque bits are not in half as good keeping as the
gargoyles and other queer pieces of ornament on the old cathedrals.
Cambridge, April 4, 1870.
I have for a long while been wishing and endeavoring to write to you,
but it is not so easy, so many other letters have to be written, to answer
letters from persons that I don’t particularly care for, as to leave little time
for those that I do.
I owe you for two very interesting letters; for it was a hurried note of
mine that we need not count, which crossed yours of February 4, and then
there is your later one of March 1, along with Mrs. Church’s to my wife. I
leave it for her to tell you about the novelists. And I have not much to say of
myself. I have pottered all winter over the herbarium and upon an article for
our “American Academy’s Proceedings,” of a wholly technical nature,
which is just in the printer’s hands. I am about to begin another,—a study of
another group of North American plants; but the professional work absorbs
so much of my time and energy that it will, I know, make no great progress
until July brings a long vacation. And then I may have my hands full,
somewhat as yours will be, superintending building. I have my church to
enlarge. I need a lecture-room here on the spot, and a students’ laboratory in
connection with it; and I have a plan for this, to form a wing to the
herbarium building, and a fair prospect that I may get it done. We shall see
before long; and if the means are forthcoming, I will soon let you know,
with all the details....

The last “Spectator” received gives an abstract of Gladstone’s and
Forster’s Irish Land and Education bills, and of the general favor they were
received with upon their introduction. To have almost satisfied all parties
and interests is really a wonderful and a most unexpected achievement. You
ought to be proud of Gladstone, and well satisfied at having inevitable and
great changes wrought out under so strong a ministry, and so high-minded a
leader. Courage, earnestness, and high principle here are seen to command
success, in Parliament at least. How anything will work in Ireland remains
to be seen. But don’t think as some of my English friends do, that the Irish
are incapable of good things. The race over here, as a general thing, develop
at once what they seem to lack at home, thrift, and with thrift come order
and respect for law.
I happened to be in Boston on St. Patrick’s Day, and was stopped in my
carriage while a very long Irish procession passed. They were mainly of the
more well-to-do sort, no doubt; but they had made themselves so. Probably
nearly every one of middle age was born in Ireland, and would have been a
peasant laborer at home, very likely ill-conditioned enough. They were,
however, in holiday attire; still they were fair representatives of the race,
and I wished we could send them over to you for a day, as specimens of
what may be made out of such material, under circumstances, not altogether
the best, but much better than those at home. They are not the best element
of our population, certainly, but they make by no means a bad lower
stratum, out of which many show a truly Yankee-like aptitude for rising.
They are almost all Romanists, to be sure; and there is an element of
danger. But the influence of the priesthood is much tempered (as witness
how they ran into Fenianism, against their exhortations) and in most
respects is far from bad. The Germans are counted as a much better
population, but they are quite as clannish, and in the towns are rather
disposed to be actively anti-Christian.
By the way, I met some time ago Mr. Stanley, who has been in the
country before; is now on his way round the world via California, a favorite
route. He is, or was, an M. P., a son of Lord Stanley of Alderley, an Oxford
man, bright, sharp, and very talkative. He is a specimen of ultra-secularistic
liberalism, I should think, of a set that will be apt to give you some trouble
hereafter, in the questions that are to come up; if I do not misjudge him, one
who thinks the world, or at least England, has not much farther use for
distinctive Christianity; just one of the sort you must have had in view, in

yours of February 4, as extremely generous “in making free with what other
people value, and you don’t care for.” Most uncivilly, I fear, I fell almost
into a wrangle with him directly. He even seemed to think us on the whole a
bigoted set here in Cambridge,—rather a novel view to us....
Well, I must break off.
Our spring is tardy, after a wintry March. Only snowdrops yet out in the
Garden, and those in the sunniest place, a lot which I brought with me from
England. For primroses we have to look into a cold frame, in which they,
with violets, have been blossoming all the latter part of the winter.

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

November 15, 1870.
My dear De Candolle,—Many thanks for your most kind letter of the 24th
October. Taken along with one from Mr. Bentham of about the same date, it
gives me tidings of several of our French confrères, who are now in such
great tribulation. What a change since last year, since last summer even; and
for Mrs. Gray and me, how fortunate that we had our visit made and over
before the deluge! And what can be the end, and when? It is useless to
conjecture. And now there is fear that while Germany is holding the Gallic
wolf by the ears,—a situation growing daily more uncomfortable and
dangerous for Prussia, and England is left quite alone,—Russia is to take a
step forward in the Black Sea, etc., which will greatly vex England and
Austria, and perhaps send the torch of war all over Europe; and if all closes
up soon Europe will feel this powerful Germany. But it may be the better
for Switzerland, whose danger is always from France. It used to make me
uneasy and indignant to see the French flag on the shore of your Lake,
where it has no business to be!
The Caruel[86] pamphlet reached me to-day. To the first question the
answer is simple and easy. About the second, there is perhaps more to be
said. As the publication of a name without a character goes for nothing, why
should the dubious proposal of a name with a hypothetical character go for
more? And suppose the suggested character does not prove true, and a
genus afterwards be founded well upon the same species with a good
character, and under another name, must that give place to the conditional
name, etc.? Vain the endeavor to settle every such little question by the
terms of any positive enactment.

One thing I see, that is, that our solitary point of disagreement will
erelong disappear. The fact of the publication of a certain name, at a certain
date and a certain place, being the main thing, the form (and I add the
agent) of publication being a subsidiary consideration, I think you will
come to agree that, e. g., names proposed by Fischer and published in his
name by De Candolle, must be said to be Fischer’s, and cited, in the last
resort, as, e. g., “A. dasyglottis, Fisch. in DC.,” just as I write “Phlox rigida,
Benth. in DC.” For all the rest, I think I agree with you fully. I perfectly
agree that, e. g., “Diceratium Lag.” is correct only as a generic name, that
“Sect. Diceratium DC.” is the only correct way. I myself and others have
not followed this proper course always in former times; but should do so
hereafter....
Believe me to remain as ever, most cordially yours,
Asa Gray.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

Cambridge, October 14, 1870.
My dear Friend: ... I have the hour of leisure and am in the mood for
writing this evening. The latter I may count on, but the former I cannot, in
these busy and rather distracting days.
On Tuesday evening last I heard Tom Hughes give a public lecture, the
only one he gives in America. He manfully stood up and turned the tables
upon us, by insisting that the Americans were wronging the British, by
blaming them when they ought to be praised for their general conduct
during the war of the Rebellion. His lecture was very able and pleasant; and
he seemed well pleased, as well he might be, at the reception of it. He, at
least, did excellent service in our behalf, in our times of trial.
The next evening I met him at the house of a colleague here in
Cambridge, and had a very pleasant talk with him. On telling him that I
came near to hearing him speak to the electors of Frome, and was prevented
only by the rainy day that made our walk to Longleat too late, he spoke of
you with much interest, and told me, what I did not know, that he was of
Oriel while you were tutor. He is very much pleased with his trip through
the country.

As to the Franco-German war, it is thus far a succession of wonders, and
now when a week passes, like the last, without any astounding event, one
feels dissatisfied. At first, the crowning and unexpected result, of judgment
overtaking Louis Napoleon here on the spot, was only to be rejoiced over.
And I think you in England must all be glad to see the vulgar Empire vanish
in a day, and in the collapse show how hollow and good for nothing it was
in what we supposed its strong side, military force and military ability. But
now, it is painful to see France reduced to such straits, and I long to see
peace made with as little weakening of France as may be. Only, if it goes
on, this chastening, and the effort it may induce France to make, may
regenerate her spirit. But, as you say, only the prophetic books of Scripture
furnish language in which to express one’s feelings and sentiments.
“And then this nation will I judge, saith the Lord”—sounds in your ears,
as these vast changes sweep on.
If I fail to enter wholly into your feelings as to Bismarck and Prussia,
here is Mrs. Gray, who has been anti-Prussian from the very first, and who
shares all your misgivings, and more. Now, I think it a pity, and a loss to the
world, that the German people should be broken up into jealous rival
kingdoms and little principalities, always liable to be played off against
each other by outlying nations. I think Germany as such ought to take its
place as a great Central European power. And yet a simple centralized
government is dangerous; at best could ill replace local governments. So I
hope for, and expect, a close confederation of German states, in a restored
and efficient German empire, the states of which will be as closely united as
those of our Federal Union, but yet sovereignties in all that relates to
internal concerns. I don’t despair of the Germans working out a fairly
successful constitutional parliamentary system, along with state
parliaments, etc., after their own fashion. And I fancy that a united
Germany will tend to peace in Europe, when one section can no more be
played off against another.
But what sort of a policy is this which Great Britain seems to have been
pursuing in weakening, and as if inclined to sever, her connections with her
principal colonies? Why not contrive some mode of uniting home and
colonial interests, giving the colonies imperial representation, or something
of the sort, or somehow be making sure that the men you will be wanting
one of these years shall be sturdily growing up on these virgin soils, where
crowding is out of the question, and who may feel as they grow up that they

are part and parcel of a strong empire. For myself, I can’t abide the idea of
the English nation ever coming to play any secondary part.
As for ourselves, I feel more and more what a good thing it is, and what
an economy in the long run, to have no neighbors, but the whole breadth of
country to ourselves, and to be so far away from Europe that we may look
with unconcern upon the rise or fall of states there, so far as they affect any
interests of ours. That does not prevent our being all alive to events in
Europe, however. The telegraph feeds our lively curiosity, day by day; but
what I write about to-day will have ceased to interest by the time it reaches
you: perhaps the strife all over there; devoutly do I wish it may be.
I see you have taken up “Anselm” again; and that, I presume, is the book
you are going to send me, and which I shall be pleased to see.
Yes, you must come over here; but when you do, please arrange for time
enough. When you cross the ocean, be sure to stay long enough to get your
money’s worth. If it be the summer after next, perhaps we may cross the
continent together, and see the parent of your Wellingtonia tree on the lawn,
and the rest of the grove, and visit the wondrous Yosemite Valley, as yet an
arduous journey from San Francisco, but it will soon be within easy reach.
I see that my writing is very bad, and will stop short.
Inclosed are seeds of the two passion-flowers which are so good for
showing the movements of tendril, both the coiling after being touched, and
revolution, etc. Sow in April in your little conservatory, or in hotbed, and
you may have good plants for your purpose in June. The tendrils show off
best under a temperature of 80° or 90° Fahr. P. acerifolia will give you
tendrils a foot long, when in full growth.
I note the uneasiness in England, and the rumors of difference in the
cabinet,—dangerous times for Gladstone’s ministry, but I do hope it will
last.
I suppose your church is all in order, and your cares over as to the
rebuilding....

TO JOHN TORREY.

November 4, 1870.
I have to-day a long letter from Bentham, which I would send to you, but
that it is full of Compositæ queries and statements, which I have soon to

attend to. What a worker he is, and what a good one!
At last accounts Decaisne and Brongniart were drilling. Rather old
sojers, I think! Cosson[87] had dispatched his wife and daughter and
granddaughter to England, and was communicating now and then by
balloon-post! Bentham very well, and working hard at Compositæ for
“Genera.” ...
I have an advanced class this year, and they come up here, and take up a
vast deal of my time. But it is enjoyable work, as they are the pick of a
dozen out of fifty or sixty of the preceding year.
March 28, 1871.
... I hope, with you, that the Domingo annexation will break down. But
Grant is working for Cuba too, and that is worse than the other; ignorant
blacks are better than Creole Spaniards to deal with.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

February 27, 1871.
... There are so many things I wanted to write about your church (for
which it was shabby of me not to remember and send you a contribution, in
a small way) and the reopening services of which you sent us a newspaper
account; your “Anselm,” which we read aloud in our deliberate way, on
successive Sunday evenings, when not interrupted, and very much enjoyed;
I think the later chapters most; perhaps because we got more interested as
we went on, perhaps, too, the narrative flows on with a more free
movement in the later than in the earlier chapters. Then there is this
wonderful German-French war, which is only now closing, if it be the
close, in such bitter humiliation of the French as no Frenchman could ever
imagine possible, nor any but a German contemplate without deep sorrow
and pity: all their hard measures of former generations meted out to them
again, to this one hapless generation, in a way that till now it could never
have dreamed of. For long years France must play a secondary political
part, which of itself will be a bitter thing, we may hope a wholesome thing;
and when with long care and nursing of resources she recovers, she cannot
be so strong relatively again, while the German empire holds together. And
I suppose you in England have a good deal of misgiving as to what this
Germanic power portends. Perhaps the next great wonder, and surely the

best thing, may be a great defensive alliance of English-speaking people
round the world, which would render any European continental changes
less momentous.

It seems to me that the hopeful prospect for France is in the ascendency,
seemingly assured, of the conservative republicans and the Orleanists. But
there are rumors that even the Orleans family are falling out among
themselves.
As I grow older I can sympathize thoroughly with a disinclination you
may feel as to assuming any new public duties. The deep ruts which the
daily routine of life has worn for us do become such pleasant paths, as one
ages, that we do not thank anybody for trying to force us out of them.
Nothing have we heard or seen of Mr. Horner yet: he has gone South
probably, which is wise. I hope he will come this way in June, when we
shall be very glad to see him....
By the way, I see in “Popular Science Review” a neat presentation of
Wallace’s points on the limitations of natural selection as applied to man, by
Buckle (I suppose your Oriel friend), who makes the point very well that
these limitations apply hardly less, in their way, to other parts of the animal
kingdom.
I am too much occupied with humdrum botanical work to read or think
much of such matters.
Have you read or seen Bryant’s translation of the Iliad? It was discussed
in our club last week by my neighbor, who read extracts from this, Lord
Derby’s, and other translations: it was thought to be as readable as Lord
Derby’s, to adhere quite as closely to the original, and to reflect more truly
the simple directness of Homer, both of expression and thought. I should
like to know what you think of it.
The most important matter, as concerns myself, is, that I am busy with
plans of building, having found a man who is disposed to give the money
for constructing here, adjacent to the herbarium, a much needed botanical
lecture-room and laboratory for students. Between the herbarium (which,
you know, adjoins our house, and communicates with it) and the
conservatory, there is a space of 127 feet. This we mean to fill up: First,
with a one-story brick building 60 × 38 feet, rather less than one half for
botanical laboratory and cabinet, the rest lecture-room; then a lobby, and the
remainder of the distance a low stove and a short, cool greenhouse, to
establish connection with our present hothouse. Then, on the one hand, I
can bring plants at all seasons into the lecture-room; and on the other I can
reach the same under cover, from my private study, through the herbarium;

and Mrs. Gray may walk, in winter, from her dining-room, through our little
drawing-room, entry, library or parlor, my study, greenhouse corridor,
herbarium, lobby, laboratory, lecture-room, passage, stove and coolhouse,
into conservatory, of three compartments, a long affair, but don’t imagine
anything at all grand. A snake, of which our house is the head and the
farthest wing of the conservatory the tail, will give the best idea. In a lucky
time I asked a man to build in this 127 feet, at an expense of at least twelve

THE RANGE OF BUILDINGS, BOTANIC GARDEN IN 1893

thousand dollars; and I am authorized to get plans and estimates complete,
and I suppose it will be done, though I have no positive assurance of it yet. I
thought you would like to know it, without waiting till all is absolutely
settled.
Here is a second sheet filled: thick paper, too, and I must cut all short.
How I wish we could be with you in Switzerland next summer!
Ever yours affectionately,
Asa Gray.

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

March 10, 1871.
My dear Darwin,—It is very good of you to send me, and so kindly address,
a copy of your new book,[88] which safely reached me two days ago. I have

not yet had time to read any of it, except the preface and the ending; and I
do not like to dip into it and so blunt the edge of curiosity. So I keep it well
out of sight, not caring to look just yet at any of the pages which you think
likely to “aggravate” me, until some day I can get a good pull at it....
April 14, 1871.
You have such a way of putting things, and you write in such a
captivating way. One can only say:—
Almost thou persuadest me to have been “a hairy quadruped, of arboreal
habits, furnished with a tail and pointed ears,” etc.
But I have read only the first part of the book and the closing chapters;
have left all the Sexual Selection till I can read it leisurely next summer, and
have lent it to a judicious friend, who has just returned it.
I have been besought to write notices of the book, but I decline. You
don’t know how distracted I am in these days,—doing the work of
professor, gardener, builder, financier, and what not, all at once.
But I must not let this mail pass without sending you the little I could get
as to Laura Bridgman.
Through Dr. Jarvis, a medical man, etc., I got the queries put to the
woman who has now the personal charge of Laura, and he brought me the
inclosed, which I think I should not much rely on.
When Dr. Howe is on hand, some day, I will see if I can get anything
authentic and particular,—not, I fear, in time for you.

TO CHARLES WRIGHT.

Cambridge, June 28, 1871.
... Well, I say the same as then, only I feel sad about the chance of the
“Flora of North America.” What is my bête noire, as I said before, is the
care of the Garden; and till I can get rid of that, by some complete
reorganization, which shall result in the Garden’s being much better seen to
than it has been,—better taken care of and better named up and
superintended,—I shall not be comfortable nor of much use in writing
“Flora of North America.”
I am going to try if I cannot find or make some sort of superintendent,
and pay him out of what I pay for rent of house, and have succeeded in
getting credited to Botanic Garden fund. This will leave me to pay for work

in the herbarium (which is the work you prefer) out of the only $800 a year
yielded by herbarium fund, which has first of all to pay for books, paper,
fuel, and freights,—in short, most of it, and some years all,—must come out
of my own pocket, until I can find somebody who will endow a curatorship.
Or else I must put this work in the herbarium on to my assistant, Farlow,
who, however, will have his hands full enough without it.
As to the way you are doing up Cuban botany, I do not find fault with it.
I think, with you, that you are doing about the best possible thing under the
circumstances. The only thing that you may justly complain of me for, I
think, is my sensitiveness and pooh-poohing new-species-making in
families where old species are yet all in a jumble, and where I have thought
that you could not yet tell what were new and what old. I dare say I have
been too impatient about it, and I see I have hurt your feelings somewhat,
which I am sorry for. I only meant, take time and pains to clear up the old
ones in the books, and get a better assurance, if you can, about the proposed
new ones. But, after all, it is wrong and foolish in me to worry myself, or
you, about them.
You will have more experience of the sort, in the working up of your San
Domingo collection. But if we can get time to refer doubtful cases to say
Oliver at Kew, and some one at Paris (where they have many old San
Domingo plants), I suppose you may get them pretty straight....

TO R. W. CHURCH.

September 10, 1871.
I have addressed the envelope for this letter before writing it, determined
to use once more the familiar superscription. The official may bide its time.
[89]

Only yesterday we learned of Gladstone’s doings by a newspaper slip
sent us by a friend who knew of you through us on the Nile, Mrs. Howland.
But I had a sort of premonition of it and was on the lookout....
I do not know where the Deanery is,—not in so attractive a situation as
Whatley Rectory, one may safely say. But I suppose you are not expected to
reside there in summer, that you will be fairly able to have some country
quarters to your liking. And there is Switzerland always within reach.
Happy mortals, who can reach the Alps within forty-eight hours, and with

only a narrow, though proverbially nasty, bit of water to cross! But what we
hope to gain from this upturning is to see you over here. When Mr. Horner
returns (we have heard nothing since they vanished in the West) he will tell
you it is no formidable matter even to cross the continent. At least you can
come and see us, make us a long visit, and be as quiet here as in a Swiss
wayside inn, and sally forth upon an excursion when you like.
Please thank Mrs. Church from me for thinking of us, and writing the
very next day after this anxious matter was concluded. It is wonderful she
could find time, with so much to do and to think of. And such a full account
of the Swiss journey, too.
I owe you letters, too,—one at least lies reproachingly in a drawer of my
table, where it was thrust a long while ago along with many others which
could be postponed; but once postponed it is not easy to overtake them.
Say to Mrs. C. it is not a part of our house which was moved; that would
not have been difficult, for it is of wood (though the herbarium, etc.,
adjacent is of brick). It must have been the Law School the moving of
which Mrs. Gray was describing. Tell Mr. Horner that, like some other
things, when once you have seen it done it ceases to be wonderful or even
difficult.
As to my lecture-room, etc., all work stopped for near a month,
including the fortnight or more when I was away; and now (September 11)
all has been clatter and hurry for the last week or so, and they really seem
determined to fulfill the terms of their contract, to finish by the 15th instant.
They cannot do that; but I trust the workmen may go out with the month.
These cares of building have sadly interferred with scientific work all
summer. I have accomplished very little of what I intended. I attended, and,
when the last year’s president retired on delivering his address, presided
over, the American Association for the Advancement of Science, twentieth
meeting, at Indianapolis, capital of the State of Indiana,—a journey of
forty-eight hours, in very sultry summer weather, over long stretches of
country. I broke the journey by a day in New York, to see two sons of Mr.
Darwin just as they landed, and by a three days’ stay, including Sunday,
with my old friend Mr. Sullivant, in Ohio. The meeting was a pleasant,
though not especially interesting one. I met botanical correspondents of
many years’ standing whom I had never seen. At the close we were invited
to make an excursion to the Mammoth Cave in Kentucky, which I counted

on seeing. But I found that the excursion was to be an overcrowded one....
So I hastened homeward, and was with Mrs. Gray at Beverly Farms, where
she had been passing holidays at Mrs. Loring’s at the paternal homestead on
the seashore,—a place that you have heard us talk of not a little. It is
delightful. I know nothing to give you so good an idea of it as the
Devonshire coast, there being plenty of wood quite down to the water. Were
we there now, Miss K. and Charles Loring would, I know, charge me with
messages.
I must tell you that the Scientific Association is invited to meet at San
Francisco, California, next summer; and that we have fixed the meeting
there conditionally, that is, in case the Californians care enough for our
presence to transport a certain number of our representative men free of
cost, or nearly so, across the wide continent. If not, we are to meet on the
northern part of the Mississippi,—at Dubuque, Iowa, far enough west in all
conscience, but a place from which we may easily reach the Falls of St.
Anthony and Lake Superior. I must needs attend, as I shall have a retiring
address to deliver. And though I can ill spare the time or afford the expense,
yet Mrs. Gray and I are longing to see California. What say you and Mrs.
Church about joining us for your next summer’s vacation? The mountains
which form the sides of the Yosemite Valley will hardly offer as many kinds
of flowers as the alpine turf of the Riffelberg, but they may be more novel
to you....

On December 15, 1871, Dr. Gray wrote to President Eliot, after
describing formally the completion of the new buildings, and something of
the history and arrangement of the department, the following letter:

... I beg to add, for your consideration and that of the corporation, a few
words of a personal character.
With the present academic year I shall have completed thirty years of
service in the professorial chair to which I was called in the spring of 1842.
The Garden, which had been under no professorial care for years, and
which has since had a long and hard struggle for existence, the
conservatories, the herbarium and its library, both steadily increasing, and
now the lecture-room, laboratory, etc., make up an establishment which has
grown by degrees into one which requires much time, care, and anxiety to

administer, and for which I have now done the main part of what could be
expected of me or any one man. The experience of the last and the present
year clearly shows me that the work of instruction, steadily increasing in its
demands under the present system, weighted more and more with the load
of administration, is more than I can carry on. I have some warnings,
besides, of the increase of years, which I ought to consider; and I
definitively propose to lay down, at the close of the present academic year,
as large a part of this load as I possibly can without serious prejudice to this
department and this establishment. I suppose that either the duties of
instruction or of administration, beyond that of the herbarium, must be
entirely surrendered. If I can be spared, and if what I could do for the
herbarium could be reckoned an equivalent for rent of the house I reside in,
I should crave to resign both the charge of the Garden and of the
professorship. There is reason to think that the time is at hand when changes
such as are here suggested may be propitiously made.
When I came here, in 1842, I was carrying on and publishing a most
important original work, the “Flora of North America.” I have worked on it
from time to time, but I never have been able to publish any more of it. And
now what was done has all to be done again, and carried if possible to a
completion; and there is no one else to do it if I do not. My educational
books, or most of them, require to be re-edited; and I fail to find time and
sufficient freedom of mind for the undertaking. If I could accomplish these
tasks, or a good part of them, I am of opinion that I should in consequence
be able (as is especially my desire) to do a great deal more for the university
and the permanent interest of this establishment than I can expect now to
do, as at present situated, even if it were possible or probable that I could so
continue for any length of time. I am,
Very respectfully and truly yours,
Asa Gray.

TO JOHN TORREY.

Cambridge, January 4, 1872.
Dear Doctor,—I have a horrid cold, which makes me unwell.
I write a brief line, in response to yours of yesterday, mainly to say that I
fear I disagree with you about the reply to be made to Wilkes’s urgent

request to print the manuscript of the Oregon collection of Wilkes’
Expedition.
It was prepared to print long ago; is not your fault that it has been
delayed so long. The library committee have a right to print it, and might do
so without your corrections if you decline to make any. We want the plates,
which are now thrown away, and must be published. I would print in the
form of a naked list,—except where remarks and descriptions are still
wanted,—and to make all right and sure, and to relieve you, I, with
Watson’s kind help, will fix it all up for you and read the proofs once, and
so save you the worry. And I urgently request you to send this line to
Professor Henry, as embodying my opinion, and my offer of help.
I am sure that if the rest of my manuscript is called for, I shall turn it
over with satisfaction, though the same applies to it as to yours. And I
should either alter accordingly or add notes.
The rest of your letter I will respond to in due time.
But I feel concerned to have those Oregon plates out.
I think I have some right to, as I paid for one hundred of them; but that is
no matter. They are now neither published nor unpublished, which is a bad
state of things.

Dr. Gray had the manuscript prepared some years before for the second
volume of the “United States Exploring Expedition,” and notified the
library committee that he was ready for publishing. Meantime came the
war, and there was no money or thought for such things. When the country
was again quiet and prosperous, the library committee who had formerly
known and been interested in the work and its printing had passed away;
there was no one to care for it, and the manuscript was never called for.

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

Cambridge, March 7, 1872.
Mr. Packard, one of our best entomologists, a most excellent and modest
man, has asked to be introduced to you, that he may pay his respects.
I shy or refuse such applications generally, saying you can rarely see
visitors or callers. But Packard is “fish to your net,” has his head crammed
with facts bearing on derivation, is a disciple of the Hyatt-Cope school, that

you may have heard of,—people who have got hold of what they call a law,
though I do not see that they contribute any vera causa at all.
If you will turn the world of science upside down, you must expect that
people will wish to see you....
May 31.
By the hand of an old correspondent of yours, and cousin of ours, Mr.
Brace, I send you a little book, which may amuse you, in seeing your own
science adapted to juvenile minds.[90] In some of those hours in which you
can do no better than read, or hear read, “trashy novels,” you might try this
instead. It will hardly rival “The Jumping Frog,” and the like specimens of
American literature which you first made known to us....

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

Botanic Garden, June 10, 1872.
My dear De Candolle,—You must set me down as a faithless correspondent.
Your pleasant letter of April 6, from Paris, has been long upon my table, and
I think there is one of older date somewhere below. But all this spring I
have been so overworked that I could respond only to the most necessary
letters of business, duties of my professorship, of the Garden, and many
other things. Well, my lectures are over, and for the ensuing year I may
hope for some emendation. I give up the superintendence of the Botanic
Garden, which has become a great burden, and I nominally devolve other
university work in part upon an assistant, surrendering at the same time a
part of my salary, hoping thereby to purchase time. We shall see if it be
possible. But I have to begin with a new assistant, who will need training;
but will then, I hope, take much off my hands. My youthful assistant of the
past two years goes in a week or two to Europe, to study in some German
university for a year or two; to Strasburg, I think, unless he first should go
to Sweden, and there study Algæ, with Agardh, if he will receive him. He
takes a fancy to lower Cryptogamia. His name is Farlow, an honest, good
fellow. He will most likely be in Switzerland in the summer; and I shall
give him a letter of introduction to you, whom he will wish to know. But
take no trouble on his account, except to introduce him to Dr. Müller, from
whom, as a working lichenologist, he could learn much.

Well, Mrs. Gray and I are going to set out, two weeks hence, for
California. We both need the change, and are curious to see the country,
having never seen even the Mississippi! The scientific meeting was to have
been held there; but there is now a hitch about it. We go, however, at all
events, and expect to pass a month in the Yosemite Valley, and elsewhere in
the mountain region. I wish you were here to go with us. Hooker was
counted on to go with us; but the very bad state of his mother’s (Lady
Hooker) health, and the state of affairs at Kew prevent it....
I hope soon to receive your “Mélanges historiques,” which are sure to
interest me. If I can I will write you a long letter from California, or Utah,
or the Rocky Mountains!—more interesting than this scrawl from yours
ever,
Asa Gray.

TO JAMES D. DANA.

June 22, 1872.
My dear Dana,—I fancy you have got hold of a good topic for your
handling, and have a promising inquiry before you, in coördinating
cephalization and natural selection as operative on the nervous system of
animals. I expect you to get something interesting out of it.
But every now and then something you write makes me doubt if you
quite get hold just right of Darwinian natural selection. What you still say
about struggle not applicable to plants makes me think so.
Suppose the term be a personification, as, no doubt, strictly it is. One so
fond as you are of personification and good general expressions ought not
to object to what seems to me a happy term.
Speaking from general memory, I should say that the term, as used to
express what we mean, was introduced by the elder De Candolle and
applied in what I thought a happy way to the vegetable kingdom. I cannot
drop it because you say there is no struggle where there is no will; perhaps
you mean without consciousness, and then the field of struggle will be
much limited. But call the action what you please,—competition (that is
open to the same objection), collision, or what not,—it is just what I should
think Darwin was driving at. Read “Origin” (4th ed.), pp. 72, 73, and so on,
through the chapter, especially pp. 81-86.

This is enough to show you that when you speak of “Darwinian
struggle” as occurring only “when the faculties of an animal are called into
requisition,” you take too limited a view of what Darwin means.
For myself I should say that the faculties of the lowest animals and the
faculties of plants were equally called into requisition in the case, in a
manner so parallel that there is no drawing any but a purely arbitrary
distinction between the one and the other.
I conceive one as effective as the other as regards the leading on and
fixing variation.
When I say now again that the expression “fitted by its regional
development to the region” conveys no clear meaning to me, I am only
telling you, as I did before, my way of looking at things, not finding fault
with yours.
By the way; “variation (inherent) in particular directions,” is your idea
and mine, but is very anti-Darwin. Good-night.
A. Gray.
Dr. Gray greatly enjoyed his visit to California, with the long overland
journey thither. It was an ever-renewed excitement to see plants growing
which he had seen only as dried specimens, and the conductor of the train
was at last almost in despair at the scattering of his passengers to grab what
they could in the short halts, as they became inspired by seeing Dr. Gray
rush as the engine slowed, to catch all within reach. Then when in motion
again the specimens were brought from all sides to see what they were. And
the preparing and drying went on to the wonder of some and the interest of
all.
His ascent of Gray’s Peak was made a great occasion in the
neighborhood. A large party gathered from Georgetown and Empire City,
and started the afternoon before, after having been most hospitably dined by
Judge McMurdy, in Georgetown; the night was passed in a mining-tavern
cabin, and the ascent, some going on horseback, some on foot, was made
the next morning. Speeches were made on the summit, and resolutions
passed to confirm the names Gray’s and Torrey’s peaks given in 1862 by
Dr. Parry, who was himself happily with the party. The ascent is not as
difficult as in most mountains of that height, as one can ride on horseback
to the top in August, when the snow lies only in patches; the trail is mostly
over the rough shale, and for a month or two the summit, though over

14,000 feet, is almost bare. The view of the innumerable peaks is very
magnificent.
At Dubuque he was the guest of an old Fairfield comrade. As the retiring
president of the American Association he gave his address,[91] written
mostly in the cars on the long overland journey, in which he explained still
further some of his long-meditated conclusions on the distribution of the
flora of Western North America.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

Cambridge, October, 1872.
My dear Church,—I promised to myself, if I did not to you, that I would
write you from the other side of this continent; but writing and journeying
are incompatible, at least in case where the time for the one is too short for
your undertakings. But now we have been a month at home, and more; the
accumulation of things to be seen to is worked off or nearly, and I mean
now to tell you something of our summer’s doings.
As soon as we were free we set out.... At Chicago we had two nights and
a day in which to see the desolated and fast rebuilding town. From this
place, over a thousand miles west of Boston, we made our proper start.... A
welcome rain cooled the air and laid the dust that morning, and not a drop
more of rain did we see, any more than in Egypt, from that day onward,
until, six or seven weeks later, we were back at the eastern base of the
Rocky Mountains, when there was an evening thunderstorm, and the next
morning I called Mrs. Gray to the window to see a novel sight,—the streets
dripping and muddy! I wish I could describe to you our journey, and the
sort of life we were leading. But if I go into particulars there will be no end.
At Omaha we were on the Pacific Railroad proper, and soon upon the
plains, at first the larger part cultivated, but barer and drier as we advanced
westward, and ascended imperceptibly; so that the next twenty-four hours
brought us, with some fine views of the range, to the foot of the Rocky
Mountains and a height of 5,000 or 6,000 feet above the sea; that afternoon
over the Black Hills of the Platte, 2,000 or 3,000 feet higher, and the highest
elevation of the road,—higher than the passes through the Rocky Mountains
beyond,—and at nightfall we were traversing the wide grassy Laramie
Plains, a vast, sequestered sub-alpine meadow. And when I rose early next
morning, we were running through a dry desert “sage brush” (wormwood)

region (desert, except for the botanist,—the first plant I saw and clutched
proved to be Grayia), the scanty waters of which run into the Colorado of
the West and the Gulf of California.
Another twenty-four hours, through grand scenery, brought us, after
three nights in our car berths, to Ogden, on Salt Lake, where we took a
branch road and, skirting the lake along the whole eastern shore, reached
Salt Lake City, the Mormon town, before sunset. Here we passed two nights
and a day, and enjoyed scenery worth crossing the ocean for, and saw
something of the strange life of the district.
Back to Ogden; two more nights and days, one long day crossing the
Humboldt desert, rendered passable only by the Humboldt River, which,
though the ragged mountains all run north and south, yet runs from east to
west and marks its course by a narrow line of greenness, and at dusk we
saw its end in the Humboldt sink, a lagoon without outlet on the western
verge of the basin, against the Sierra, the arid side of which we were
ascending all night, to awake among pine forests at sunrise; to breakfast
upon the very summit soon after; to descend through most striking scenery
into the great valley of California, and, traversing that and the Contra Costa
range, to see the head of the Bay of San Francisco at dusk; to cross the bay
in a steam-ferry, and reach our hotel in San Francisco at ten P.M.,—a journey
full of interest, not a bit monotonous or dull, from first to last. There were
fatigues and small discomforts, of course, but these are all forgotten long
ago, and the whole transit dwells in memory as one continual and delightful
piece of pleasant, novel, ever-varied, and instructive sight-seeing. Of course
the identifying at sight, as we flew by, of flowers new to me in the living
state, and the snatching at halts, and the physical features of districts which
I had always been interested in, and knew much about but had never seen,
all gave me occupation and continual pleasure. But it was much the same
with all the party. Even the return journey was hardly less interesting....
From Dubuque we took steamer up the Mississippi River, through its
finest scenery up to St. Paul, Minnesota; saw the falls of St. Anthony and
Minnehaha; thence, while the rest of our party essayed Lake Superior, Mrs.
Gray and I returned home by rapid stages.
I have only to-day finished the study and laying into the herbarium of
specimens I gathered and dried, regretting the while that I did not collect
more specimens and many other species, as I might have done.

Tyndall is in Boston, and I trust will be with us next week. I have not yet
seen him, nor Froude, nor even MacDonald, the third lecturing notability in
Boston.

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

Cambridge, October 6, 1872.
You delight me by your promise to take up Dionæa and Drosera now,
and I imagine you as now about it. Good! And I am so glad you will take
that opportunity to collect your botanical and quasi-botanical papers. These,
with the Dionæa, etc., will make a nice and most welcome volume.
In answer to your query, I think I can “support the idea,” or the
probability of it, “that tendrils become spiral after clasping an object from
the stimulus from contact running down them.” For though some “tendrils
do become spiral when they have clasped nothing,” others do not. The
adjustment of the unstable equilibrium is more delicate in the former, so
that it starts under some inappreciable cause or stimulus. That the stimulus
may be so propagated downward is clear in the sensitive plant, where the
closing of the leaflets in succession will follow the closing of the ultimate
pair under slight and local irritation. And in the tendril the coiling below is
just a continuation of the same movement or same change as that which
incurved the tip in clasping, that is, a relative shortening of concave or
lengthening of the convex side of the tendril. Would you not infer that the
action was propagated downward?
So you were astonished at Mrs. Gray’s audacity. Well, “toujours
l’audace;” she is all the better for it. Some horseback work in getting to and
into the Yosemite Valley was severe, but she bore it so well that I ventured,
when we made our detour into the Colorado Rocky Mountains, to take her
up to the summit of Gray’s Peak, 14,300 feet, or thereabouts, where she
acquitted herself nobly. The day was perfect, the success complete, and the
memory of it one of the most delightful of the many pleasant memories of
the whole journey. Our great trip was the round from San Francisco to
Mariposa Grove, Yosemite Valley, entering over Glacier Point, from which
(tell your sons) is a new trail down the 4,000 feet into the valley; made
excursions from the valley during several days, and returned by a long
sweep through the little Tuolumne grove, round foothills to Murphy’s and
the Calaveras Grove, and so back to San Francisco. Afterwards Mrs. Gray

and I went to Santa Cruz and up the San Lorenzo Valley among noble
redwoods, rivaling the Sequoia gigantea. On return we made one stretch to
the east base of the Rocky Mountains, then down to Denver, and up into the
mountains, to 8,400 feet, where we had a pleasant week or more (just the
climate to give strength to an invalid), whence I climbed a high mountain or
two, among them Gray’s Peak, the highest, as already mentioned. Thence
we came down to Dubuque and hot weather, on the Mississippi to St. Paul
and St. Anthony, etc., and then home by rail, having been twelve busy
weeks away.
Well, we are longing to do it again, and more! But I am settling down to
my work as well as I may, well content with the summer’s holiday.
December 2, 1872.
Well, it is wonderful, your finding the nervous system of Dionæa!!! Pray
take your time next spring, and do up both Drosera and Dionæa. I will
endeavor next spring to get hold of Drosera filiformis and make the
observations. I will also do better, by sending your note on to Mr. Canby,
who lives near its habitat, and has done something already in such
observations.
As to coiling of tendril. I think your idea is that in the coiling of a fixed
tendril, one coil has its concave side the opposite of the part that has coiled
the other way.
Now take a piece of tape say a span long; black one side, let some one
hold the two ends while you twist in the middle. The two halves are coiled
in opposite directions, just as a tendril which has caught does. The same
color will be on the outside of the coil all the length.
Blacken with a stroke of paint a line along the whole length of a caught
tendril. On straightening it out the black will be all on one side.
I have not had time to follow it up, and need not, since you are sure to do
it. But I think it clear that one and the same side is concave, that is, the
relatively shortened side, the whole length of the caught tendril. Do not
you?
Mrs. Gray is absent while I write, or she would add her best regards and
best wishes to my own for a happy New Year to you all.

TO C. W. ELIOT.

Botanic Garden, Cambridge, January 1, 1873.
My dear President Eliot,—Will you kindly present the inclosed
communication to the corporation at its next meeting.
I need not say to you that I could not take so serious a step as this
without much consideration, and that I would not do it if I were not
confident that the department which I have served in the university for
almost thirty-one years need not now suffer by my withdrawal. I am warned
also by growing experience of the fact that the needful work which I could
formerly do with ease can now be done only by effort, followed by
exhaustion and other unpleasant effects, which may be expected to increase;
and it is clear that I have left to me, at best, barely time enough, when
rigorously economized, to complete the works for which I have long been
pledged, and without the accomplishment of which my life will have been
largely a failure. The corporation will perceive that I do not intend to be
idle, but to concentrate what energies remain to me upon the kind of work
for which I am best—and indeed peculiarly—fitted, both by disposition and
by more than forty years of preparation. As this work proceeds, the
herbarium of the university, always requiring attention during its continued
increase, will be put into the condition in which I should leave it, with its
value greatly enhanced. In view of this, and of the fact that the herbarium
forms an important part of the apparatus of instruction here, I trust the
corporation will think it reasonable to allow me the possession of the house
I live in, in recompense of my services as curator of the herbarium.
I offer my resignation unconditionally, that the corporation may have, as
it should, the whole matter in its hands without embarrassment. If it be
desired to keep my name for the present upon the catalogue, and especially
if the corporation should prefer not to place a permanent incumbent just yet
in the Fisher professorship, I would in that case take the liberty to suggest
that the present very capable and efficient assistant, Dr. Goodale, be made
adjunct professor of vegetable physiology, with salary assigned from the
Fisher professorship. I remain, dear Mr. President,
Very sincerely yours,
Asa Gray.
Messrs. the President and Fellows of Harvard College:
Honorable and dear Sirs,—The time has arrived when I may, as I think
without detriment to the university, retire from the professorship to which I

was appointed in the spring of 1842; and I hereby tender my resignation of
it, to take effect at the close of the present academic year, when I shall have
completed thirty-one years of service.
I trust that I may still be useful to the university; and if agreeable to the
corporation I should like to continue to be Curator of the Herbarium. With
sincere regard, I am your obedient servant,
Asa Gray.
Botanic Garden, Cambridge, January 1, 1873.

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

Cambridge, January 14, 1873.
My dear de Candolle,—I am much and long in your debt,—all the more by
your agreeable letter of the 16th ult....
Let me note points in your letter. Your volume of “Mélanges,” etc., has
not yet come to hand,—but it is sure to come in time through the
Smithsonian Institution, and will be received with welcome. I will see to the
reproduction of the article on the Dominant Language of the Twentieth
Century,—English of course. I am glad you will make a full index of the
“Prodromus” quoad Genera. I wish it had been species, also!
Glaciers in California! Why, there is a fair remnant of one now, on the
north side of Shasta,—and more in the southern part of the Sierra; and as to
glacial marks, the geologists note them abundantly.
I am glad you saw much of Mr. Adams at Vallon. Madame A. is the more
of a talker, is she not? Or, perhaps she does not speak French. Adams is
vice-president of our American Academy; and is, I hope, presiding this
evening at a meeting which I myself am not well enough to attend. I hope
he will become president, for I mean to retire in May....
Dr. Parry passed last summer in the Colorado Rocky Mountains, where
Madame and I visited him, in his cabin; and we ascended Gray’s Peak
together (14,400 feet). Torrey, old as he is, was there later, but did not get
up the twin Torrey’s Peak, though his daughter did surmount Gray’s Peak....
Now about myself. In what time I can save I am assisting Brewer in the
“Flora of California,” and shall do for him the Monopetalæ, and finish next
summer, if my health does not fail.

Moreover, this is my last year of university work. I finish in July, and
then resign, and give my remaining time to the “Flora of North America.”
Although it is so arranged, it is not yet to be announced. It is difficult to
drop at once the many things I have charge of, and the vast correspondence
all over the country, which has been very useful to me, and others, but
which takes a deal of time. But I am making a fairly good beginning. Mrs.
Gray delights with me in the prospect of release from many a care, and of
devoting myself without distraction to the work I have always liked best.
I really hope it is not too late to do something (a few lines from you
upon this subject might, entre nous, be useful to me).

TO ——.

Cambridge, May 18, 1873.
... I cannot object to your maintaining the hypothesis that each and every
existing plant and animal form has been directly created (or mediately
created, if you see a difference) out of the soil, pure hypothesis though it be,
and one which “from the nature of the case can never be directly proved.” It
is natural that you should hold to such hypothesis as long as you believe it
to be possibly tenable.
But what I may ask you very seriously to consider is, whether you are
prepared to bear the responsibility you assume in maintaining and teaching
that no hypothesis of the derivation of existing “specific” forms from
previous ones more or less like them can logically be theistic and religious.
How far any such hypothesis may be probable or tenable in view of the
evidence is not the question raised, but a far more momentous one.
Consider what the “younger men who learn of you” will be likely to
think when they come to discard, as the best informed ones probably will
after a while, your scientific views on this subject; but still, perchance,
confide in your dictum that the doctrine of the derivative origin of one
species from another cannot logically stop short of “blank materialism,
destructive both of science and religion, and even ... to morals and social
organization.”
There will be “a heavy penalty to pay,” but there are two sides to the
question as to who is to pay a part of it. What I said in the last paragraph of

the Dubuque address “we need not here consider”[92] is, nevertheless,
worthy of consideration.
The time is not very distant, I imagine, when those who have protested
against such reckless statements will be thought to have done some service
to religion as well as to science.
I trust that the foundations of theism and of the Christian religion rest
upon firmer foundations than the so-called “immutability of species.”

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

Cambridge, June 12, 1873.
My dear de Candolle,—I must be in your eyes a disgracefully negligent
correspondent and an ungrateful friend. I think, however, that I must have
acknowledged the arrival of your volume which I received, I think, in
March,—more likely late in February. The attempt at a perusal of it was
when, on the 12th March, I went on to New York to pay the last duties to
my venerable and good friend and associate, Dr. Torrey. I read a good part
of the volume on the railway journeys, and planned a review of several of
the articles. Then, a month later, I broke away from my laborious life here,
and made a visit to my old friend Professor Henry, at Washington. I even
went as much farther south, to Wilmington, North Carolina, where I met the
spring in all its beauty, a month in advance of our tardy north. I collected a
lot of live Dionæas, etc. I returned to a great accession of university work,
my assistant being obliged to leave me on the 1st of May.
To return to your volume: I called Professor Henry’s attention to it, as
one which would all through interest him much, if ever he finds time to read
it. He will translate the article on the Language of the Twentieth Century for
his Report, and perhaps others.
At a time when I was already overloaded, the death of dear Torrey has
thrown some cares and extra work upon me. I have to carry through the
press a report of his upon the plants collected in west North America, in
Wilkes’s Expedition, which was drawn up, but never really finished, twelve
years ago, and was called for just during Torrey’s last sickness, and to his
annoyance, which I felt bound to relieve as well as I could.
Then, six weeks or more ago, died my next oldest friend and companion,
Sullivant, making a sad spring and giving me a needed warning to make

haste. He again leaves two unfinished works which I must see to, though
Lesquereux will, I trust, edit them. Of one, indeed, he was to be joint
author. The other, a second volume of the beautiful “Icones Muscorum,” is
ready as to the plates, but not at all so, I learn, for the letterpress.
For myself, as I think I have already told you, this summer completing
thirty-one years of professorial work in the university, I am relieved from
further duties of instruction,—and of my salary. I shall not experience the
full relief until the very close of summer. For, in the interest of this
department of the university, and to leave it in proper working condition, I
have undertaken a course of what we call university lectures,—meaning
lectures intended the rather for others than members of the university,—and
have opened the botanical laboratory to pupils, mainly teachers in schools,
for the summer.[93] Considerable time must be given to them, but, after a
few weeks, I hope to throw it mainly upon my assistant, Professor Goodale.
Professor Goodale, under appointment as assistant professor of vegetable
physiology, will take the whole work of instruction in botany off my hands;
but if a former assistant and pupil, Dr. Farlow, now with De Bary, proves
capable of it, as I hope, he will, I trust, take up the work in systematic
botany. His fancy, however, is for Cryptogamia.
Mr. Sereno Watson is the only one here to do work in systematic botany,
but he will not teach. He and I are endeavoring to help out Professor Brewer
in the “Flora of California,” which, to be done at all, must be pushed
through at once. I have promised to do the Gamopetalæ, which come in the
field I am striving to cover for the “Flora of North America.” That work I
hope now to give myself to.
I ought to have taken this step several years ago; but I could not afford it,
and it is only now that I have been able to bring the department here into
the position in which I feel justified in resigning the care of it. I retain the
charge of the herbarium, and I continue my residence in the house which is
connected with it.
Dr. Torrey’s herbarium and library were made over to Columbia College,
and will be kept up, although no professor will be appointed at present.
Mr. Sullivant’s bryological collections and library are to come here.
I send you by mail a copy of my biographical notices of Torrey and
Sullivant; both from “American Academy Council Report of Proceedings,”

and both printed in advance, in “Silliman’s Journal,” where you will see
them.
By the way, I have resigned the chair of the American Academy, after ten
years’ occupation, and it is taken by Mr. Adams, whom you know. The third
class (classical and historical) takes its turn.

TO W. M. CANBY.

Cambridge, June 30, 1873.
My dear Canby,—My Dionæas grow finely, and are the delight of my heart.
Drosera longifolia, also cultivated, is almost as good a fly-catcher.
Now and then I see a little exudation inside base of hood of Sarracenia
flava, which answers to what my Southern correspondent pointed out; but is
not very marked....
Cambridge, July 7.
... I have also seen here that water is secreted in the pitcher of Sarr. flava
before the lid is open.
But I have also seen some time ago, when the weather got rather warm,
very minute globules like finest dew on the erect part of the lid, near base,
inside. And, lately, during the very warm days, I found in some this
increased, and the droplets running together into a clammy exudation. But I
want to see more of it. I shall watch, as I get a chance, and the weather gets
hot. Look at yours. See if there is anything of the sort in S. purpurea; I think
not.
I have not the book yet. But I somehow understand that this exudation
on the lid is mentioned in the English translation of Le Maout and
Decaisne’s “General Treatise of Botany!” The French has it not. Very likely
it has been found out by Darwin, who finds out everything!
... Conundrum? Why does the Dionæa trap close only part way, so as to
cross the bristles of edge only, at first, and afterwards close fully?
Darwin has hit it. I wonder you or I never thought of it.
A. G.

TO A. DE CANDOLLE.

Cambridge, October 27, 1873.

My dear De Candolle,—If I were a better correspondent, I should have long
ago thanked you for your interesting and welcome letter of August 11, from
Samaden. I was in the Engadine when last in Switzerland, and got near the
top of Piz Langarde, when a storm drove me back.
Your announcement leads me to expect soon the new (and alas, last!)
volume of the “Prodromus.” Well, it must give you a huge sense of relief to
have it off your hands; something like the relief I now feel at the
termination, at the close of thirty-one years, of my professorial duties, upon
which you felicitate me. On account of a summer course of instruction,
which I felt bound to initiate for my successor, I did not really close my
labors until the end of July. Since then I have been able to work at
systematic botany very steadily. We took, my wife and I, a holiday of a
fortnight, in which we visited friends on the Hudson River and its
tributaries, at the close of September, just as the foliage was beginning to
display the bright autumnal tints, which this year have been unusually
gorgeous, and have not yet disappeared, although the leaves are now falling
fast. The sight is most enjoyable to me in the earlier autumn, when the
verdure still prevails and makes a setting for the red, yellow, and russet.
I am now deep in the Compositæ for the “California Flora” of my friend
Brewer, and so am trying Bentham’s work. It generally holds good,—
wonderfully so, considering its extent, and the comparatively short time he
took for it.
Your agreeable volume of “Miscellanies” is now in the hands of your old
friend and my neighbor, Jules Marcou; who asked to borrow it, having been
unable to purchase a copy. It is reported out of print. I think I sent you a
light article I wrote for the “Nation” last summer,—I believe in June,—in
which I gave an abstract of your essay on the Dominant Language of the
Twentieth Century. It has attracted considerable attention. I see that those
who have studied the subject think that the increase of population in North
America is not to go on at the rate it has been going; that the check is
already apparent.
A week or two ago appeared in the “Nation” an article (sent to you last
week by post), in which I had occasion to notice some other parts of your
volume, at considerable length. I have also been tempted to give some
account of your essay on Natural Selection as applied to man; but I find it
would take me too much out of my own line, and absorb time which I

cannot spare. Indeed, I have only looked over that essay, and am not
qualified to abstract, still less to criticise it. The longest article of the
volume, which gives the title, I have not given as much attention to as I
ought, probably, or I should perhaps value it more highly. But it seems to
me that membership in scientific academies—the three you take not
excepted—is so largely affected by circumstance, irrespective of talent and
of the value of work done, that one cannot very confidently base general
conclusions upon the data. Yet I have no great confidence in my opinion.
Anyway, the article is full of interesting matters....
What do you and Dr. Müller say to Bornet’s memoir, on the nature of
lichens? His exposition is so clear that, if he is an honest and good
investigator,—as I cannot well doubt,—his conclusions carry conviction.
My sheet fills, and leaves now barely room for Mrs. Gray’s messages of
kindest remembrances to yourself and to Madame De Candolle, in which I
beg to join. Long may you flourish, and much good work yet do. For one
thing, pray print the list of botanical names!
Ever yours,
A. Gray.
November 26.
... I am going this morning to witness the nuptials of my colleague and
friend Professor Sargent and a charming young lady of Boston; and, on the
chance of their having a day in Geneva, I wish to introduce the happy
couple to you and Madame De Candolle. They will tell you much of me,
and of the satisfying and I trust useful sort of life I an now leading. Some
evidence of renewed botanical activity in the form of a couple of botanical
papers just issued here, too bulky to send well by post, I will cause to reach
you by way of Paris.
Professor Sargent is given to horticulture and arboriculture. He not only
takes charge of the university Botanic Garden, but also of a recent and
noble foundation for an arboretum, from which much may in due time be
expected.
It is most pleasant and hopeful when, as in the present instance, a young
man of means and best social position chooses to devote his time and
energies to practical scientific ends, rather than to business or pleasure. You
are more accustomed to that at Geneva than we are here in America.

I know that, before this can reach you, I shall have occasion to write to
you, and to announce the reception of the last volume of the “Prodromus,”
now on the way to me. So I have only to add that I am always
Very sincerely yours,
Asa Gray.

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

May 12, 1874.
... I sent to Hooker to forward to you two articles in the “Nation,” on
Insectivorous Plants, written to reclaim your work from Bennett, who began
to appropriate it, etc., etc.
It is already leading to discovery. A physician in Carolina, a good
observer, already writes me that in S. variolaris, the best of Sarracenias, he
thinks he finds the watery liquid anæsthetic (??) and the sweet secretion not.
But he says there is a line of sweet, a trail, running from the sweet rim
down the edge of the wing outside nearly to the ground, which lures up ants
(with which Wyman tells me the pitchers are crowded), just like the train of
Indian corn which hunters scatter along the ground to lure wild turkeys into
the trap! Does not that beat all!
Also my articles here resulted in the discovery related in the paper
inclosed. The take-off of Thomson’s germs from another planet is good.
June 16.
... The gratification I feel in learning (by yours of the 3d) that you are
pleased must, I am sure, exceed any satisfaction of yours in regard to my
subdued and quiet article in “Nature.”[94] Lockyer, to my great surprise,
applied to me for it, and of course I could not refuse. I think it will
generally be regarded by scientific people as just and moderate.
Odd that you should not have recognized my hand from the first in the
“Insectivorous Plants,” written, in fact, to vindicate your rights. The papers
called forth a second hoax, as elaborate as the first, and much better done. I
have no idea who wrote them.
You must, meanwhile, have received the article in the “Nation,”
reviewing Dr. Hodge’s “What is Darwinism?” You see what uphill work I
have in making a theist of you, “of good and respectable standing.”

Do hurry up the book about Drosera, etc. My plants of Sarracenia
variolaris, having lost their spring growth in transmission, have not yet
made any that is satisfactory. So I begged Dr. Mellichamp, who had sent me
leaves with gorge sanded over at the sweet-secretion part, to send some for
the trail. He wrote me it was too late in the season; they were all drying up.
But this morning, with the inclosed postal card, came several with the sand
sticking fairly well to the glutinous line, and I send you one of them. I wish
I could send you Mellichamp’s long letters, about the two sorts of larvæ,
that appropriate, one the upper, one the lower part of the pitcher.
My wife (who sends her love to you and yours) is much amused by your
backgammon reminiscence. For the year past we have a way of getting on
most peacefully. I sit by her side and play solitaire with two packs of cards,
she looks on and helps, and when we don’t succeed there is nobody to
“flare up” against but luck.
Ever yours,
A. Gray.
P. S.—I think I never sent you my felicitations upon your election as
Foreign Honorary Member of American Academy Arts and Sciences.
We are proud to number you among the seventy-five (too many). And, I
may tell you, only two negative votes were cast, one by an Academician
who made a speech on the occasion, to which nobody vouchsafed a word of
reply.
A. G.
Cambridge, June 19, 1874.
My dear Darwin,—Your second letter reached me last evening, and this
morning came from the publishers some copies of the number of “Nature.”
You seem as pleased and are as ingenuous as a maiden when she first finds
out that she has an admirer!
Now I am a little vexed, as I am apt to be when I let anything be printed
without reading the proof myself. Some one has doctored one sentence, and
made it say the contrary to what I wrote, and to what is true; I make the
reclamation on a separate sheet: and also another, which may be
typographical, but which I am confident I could not have written; I surely
wrote “to many,” not “in many.”

My claim for you about teleology I have made several times, in
“Silliman’s Journal,”[95] and elsewhere. It is a matter on which I have a
good deal insisted.
Yours affectionately,
Asa Gray.
P. S.—My point (which is blunted) was to show how very near Brown
came to “hitting the nail on the head” without hitting it, striking wild
instead!
A. G.

TO W. M. CANBY.

July 6, 1874.
I am glad if you have Darlingtonia in a state to examine. I have some
young leaves growing, which show nothing yet. Mellichamp will send me a
paper, which I will read at Hartford next month. Won’t you post up
Darlingtonia also—getting what you can from Lemmon. He has not written
to me about it. My young fish-tails show no exudation yet; and they are
colored like the rest of the leaf.
Ever yours,
A. Gray.
Botanic Garden, July 8, 1874.
Dear Canby,—Yours of 7th instant received. I thought you had live
Darlingtonia. Of ours the old plant has died after starting three new offsets.
But the growing leaves are small. If it goes on I may do something. Thus far
I have detected no water in the tubes, nor any sticky secretion. But I shall
slit one soon. Make notes for Hartford.
You have not guessed the conundrum, though you have made a step in
distinguishing the two different movements. I’ll tell you. It is to strain out
the small flies. Do you take? Or want details? I send you Darwin’s late
letters,—one came this evening. We have lost all those Pinguiculas.
Can we get any from Wilmington now? Are there any near Dr.
Mellichamp? You may forward Darwin’s last letter to him and set him to
observing,—collecting and preserving leaves with insects stuck fast, and
margin turned over. See if ours turn over the edge!
How does D. find out they digest?

July 14.
When Dionæa is irritated by a small fly, he has plenty of time to escape
through the meshes, and the leaf soon opens, ready for better luck next
time. Think what a waste if the leaf had to go through all the process of
secretion, etc., taking so much time, all for a little gnat. It would not pay.
Yet it would have to do it except for this arrangement to let the little flies
escape. But when a bigger one is caught he is sure for a good dinner.
That is real Darwin. I just wonder you and never thought of it. But he
did.
Pretty good,—the solar protector! So Fendler is near you. Remember me
to the good fellow.
I wish he had let Cosmical Science alone! But now he never will, and is
a gone goose.
Ever yours,
A. Gray.
Dr. Gray, being sent away for a cough, made a journey to Apalachicola,
Florida, going by Washington, Augusta and Tallahassee, of which and his
successful search for Torreya he wrote a lively account for the “American
Agriculturist,” republished in his “Scientific Papers,” selected by C. S.
Sargent.
He was especially interested in seeing Torreya, a fine tree named for his
friend Dr. Torrey, which is only known in one or two localities in Florida,
on the banks of the Apalachicola River; and with some trouble he found it
growing, and had the satisfaction of hoping that it was valued enough to be
preserved. There is a second Torreya growing in Japan, a third Torreya in
California, and a fourth in China. “But,” as Dr. Gray says, “any species of
very restricted range may be said to hold its existence by a precarious
tenure. The known range of this species is not more than a dozen miles in
length along these bluffs, although Dr. Chapman has heard of its growing
farther south, where the bluff trends away from the river.”
He went to Stone Mountain in Georgia, a curiously bare, immense mass
of stone, one side too steep to climb, but having in clefts some rare plants
growing. From Chattanooga he made an excursion up Lookout Mountain,
interesting from its reminiscences of “Sherman’s March,” and also the
habitat of some rare plants he was so fortunate as to find.

TO WILLIAM M. CANBY.

Botanic Garden, March 13, 1875.
My dear Canby,—I do not get on, and shall not in this melting snow and
bad season.
I yield to advice, and Mrs. Gray and I are going South,—I do not know
where, but somewhere, taking my vacation now instead of in summer. I
want to find now—and reach comfortably—what we have here at the first
of June.
You know somewhat of the South; I think I should like best to get to
Apalachicola and St. John’s River and see Torreya. But it seems far off.
I want to recruit, and to be good for something, which at present I am
not!
Smithsonian Institution,
Washington, April 25, 1875.
My dear Canby,—Well, we have got back again, so far; and here, I think,
we shall stick for a few days. Had we anticipated so much cold and
backwardness, we should have stayed south longer.
Apalachicola was heavenly. But at Macon, coming north, we struck the
cold wave; came on by Atlanta (Stone Mountain), Chattanooga (roots of
Silene rotundifolia), and thence via Lynchburg straight here. I found
Torreya, and had a good time with it. Lots of detail to tell you....
I am lazy in traveling, or I would have written you. Then I have been
pretty busy, too, and have done several hard days’ work, causing much but
healthy fatigue.
Cambridge, May 8.
We are at home, with delightful memories of you and yours.
I think I hinted to you that I found two Crassulaceæ on Stone Mountain,
both annual.
One, most abundant on the lower slopes, is glaucous-green, and has
bright white flowers. The pods show it to be a true Sedum. I send a small
specimen. Note the blunt pods and short style. This—as shown by a bit of
fruit in my herbarium—is Sedum pusillum, Michx.!
The other is dull purple in general hue, smaller, grows only well up the
mountain, abounds in a small form on the very top, and is rather later; but I

make out the dehiscence, and it is Diamorpha pusilla, Nutt.!
The specimens you sent to me are this, larger and later than any I got.
But, as you directed me to the base of the mountain for Diamorpha, you
must have got this too. Your specimens have full-grown fruit. Look at them
and see if the larger ones have not the regular dehiscence down the side of
Sedum, and let me know.
May 12, 1875.
Thanks for your letter and the Sedum.
Now for another find. The moment I set eyes on the Arenaria of Stone
Mountain, I said, Ho! here is A. brevifolia, Nuttall, of which I had only a
single stalk in herbarium. Comparing now, I was right, and Nuttall says his
specimen is from Tatnall County (which is strange, that being in southeast
Georgia). The question remains, Is it only a low-country form of Arenaria
glabra?
Your specimen—with fruit—and M. A. Curtis’s[96] from the mountains
of Carolina, being in the same state, compare pretty well. I should unite
them, only the seeds are different, Stone Mountain plant half the size, and
shape rather different. But please rattle me out some real ripe seeds of your
plant, for further comparison.
At Stone Mountain I looked rather for small specimens to match with A.
brevifolia. I send you a bit.
I have sent the Sedum and Diamorpha yesterday to Paris, to compare and
see if both are in Herbarium Michaux.
I am proud of my little discovery!
Ever yours,
Asa Gray.

TO R. W. CHURCH.

Cambridge, June 22, 1875.
I must indulge, on its rising, the impulse to communicate with you,
which a letter from Miss P. to my wife, just received, has awakened.
If I go on as I have been going, we shall come to know nothing of each
other....

She will have told you of our loss in the death of Mrs. Loring. I never
knew a woman fuller of charity, humility, and good works.
If there were time for a gossiping letter I or Mrs. Gray would give you
some account of a trip which we made to Florida this spring. An annoying
cough, and a chronic catarrh,—the consequence of a trying winter, acting
upon old susceptibilities,—distressed my friends more than it did me. So,
yielding to their solicitations, off we went, about the middle of March, to
Washington, visiting old friends; to Augusta and Savannah, Georgia; and
thence Apalachicola, a now almost deserted, but once flourishing town, on
the Gulf of Mexico. We met the spring in Georgia; in Florida we were in
early summer, about like our own middle June.
The botanizing was delicious, very many nice things which I had never
seen growing before; our quarters comfortable, and the fare exceptionally
excellent. East Florida, which has large hotels, was full of invalids and
pleasure travelers, making a crowd not to our liking. I had special botanical
objects leading me to west Florida, an out-of-the-world region, where we
had everything to ourselves. We were late for the oranges, gleaning the last
half dozen from the trees of our friends. My throat is so sensitive that I dare
say we shall need to go again next March, and earlier than before. So, if you
will arrange to join us, I can promise you a pleasant time, and a real rest.
October 11, 1875.
What a capital article it is which your friend Lord Blachford has
published in the “Contemporary” for September, on Huxley’s Automata
hypothesis!
It is long since I have read anything which pleased me more.
Do you know who is P. C. W., in Article 6, of the same number? He
makes one suggestion of some value, that I some day want to follow up.
I am grinding away at my work in the usual manner. We are just in the
glory of the glowing autumnal foliage, and making ready for winter. If
health holds out, here we expect to remain, at least till spring....

TO G. FREDERICK WRIGHT.[97]

Botanic Garden, July 1, 1875.
Dear Mr. Wright,—Thanks for your letter. It may be that the time has come
in which a collection of my popular articles on Darwinism, etc., would be

useful.[98] Your thinking so would go far to make me believe it. But then,
you are one of the moderate number of people who have carefully read
them, and one of the few who well understand and appreciate them,—
because you have given the subject an attentive consideration,—and who
are awake to the harm that comes from theologians and ministers
denouncing a view that scientific men are more and more receiving as
probably true. I should like to know how Professor Park regards the
proposition.
I will say that while I am not unwilling to collect them for reprinting, in
case they are called for, it would not quite do for me, in the position I
occupy (I mean as a man of science), to republish them in a collected form,
without entering anew and further into some of the pending questions; to do
which would seriously interrupt the legitimate work which I have in hand,
and to which I am deeply pledged. I suppose I could add, and should be
disposed to add, a note or two,—especially one upon teleology from a
Darwinian point of view,—a subject upon which there is something still to
be said, though I do not see the way to say it conclusively. You will
probably do it better than I ever can.
At present, I think I should let them alone, unless there comes what you
ministers recognize as a call for them, and such a call I should defer to.
If such as Professor Park and yourself were to ask it, I would see if a
publisher could be got to take them up. But you don’t know how I dislike to
have my name bruited about.
Dr. Peabody was very glad of the relief you gave him on Sunday week,
and like myself was greatly pleased with your thoughtful discourse.
August 14, 1875.
... The important thing to do, is to develop aright evolutionary teleology,
and to present the argument for design from these exquisite adaptations in
such a way as to make it tell on both sides; with Christian men, that they
may be satisfied with, and perchance may learn to admire, Divine works
effected step by step, if need be, in a system of nature; and the antitheistic
people, to show that without the implication of a superintending wisdom
nothing is made out, and nothing credible.
Now for a month or two, I am pressed by daily technical work to the
extreme, and get no chance to turn these matters over in my mind.

I don’t want to handle this argument in such a way that it can be
gainsaid, nor without touching the very point. May I ask you to help me?
You see how the question stands. How shall we best handle it?...
September 14, 1875.
... I have been crowded and much absorbed with my part of the
California botany; get put back, by new collections, and have had the
printer on my heels, which is not pleasant.
I have to drive with all my might, and am not yet clear, though I trust the
worst is past. I get so fagged that when I sit down to Darwin’s
“Insectivorous Plants,” by way of relaxation, of an evening, I fall asleep
over it. And so have not finished that book yet, as it cannot be read with the
eyes shut. I put off thought of all but my daily work till my task is done.
I thought I might have got up to see you, but I cannot now.
I see in the last “Nation” an article, which was evidently to have been
continued, by Chauncey Wright, in which he points out clearly the essential
difference between Darwinism, which is scientific, and Spencerism, which
is “philosophical.” Save the mark!
Poor Wright,—your namesake—died suddenly of apoplexy, Sunday
morning. He was a stanch Millite, and very acute and clear-headed.
September 15.
... A minister out in Illinois has written me, taking me seriously to task
for altering my opinion after the age of forty-five, and for abetting disorder,
by supporting theories that disturb the harmony of opinion that ought to
prevail among scientific men.
He is one of those people who think that if you shut your eyes hard, it
will answer every purpose; indeed, from the ease with which he confutes
Darwinism, I suppose he finds no call even to shut his eyes.
November 10.
... Species, as I have said (in “Silliman’s Journal” articles) are not facts
or things, but judgments, and, of course, fallible judgments; how fallible the
working naturalist knows and feels more than any one else.
That the pages of a Flora or Fauna should give the idea of fixity and
clear limitation which does not well or wholly represent the reality, is
natural enough; is, indeed, inevitable. The object in these works is to set
forth the differences, and put them in the strongest and clearest light, so that

the forms may be readily discriminated. The nearer two forms are alike, the
more pains the naturalist takes to set forth the differences, while the
likeness “goes without saying,” and is therefore overlooked by the outsider,
though it may have been almost an even chance that the describer merged
the two in one.
The thoughtful and experienced naturalist does not get a wrong
impression from all this, but the outsider almost certainly will.
A. G.
January 14, 1876.
Dear Mr. Wright,—Thanks for your line of the 8th.
By this week’s “Nation,”[99] you see that, long as the talk is, I have not
yet touched the critical question, nor have I yet got an opportunity to apply
myself to it. But I hope to do so soon.
Meanwhile, the number of the “Westminster Review,” which you called
my attention to, has passed through my hands in our book club, and I shall
soon have it in my hands again. It makes a very strong presentation, and the
question is, how its points are to be met on purely scientific grounds. If I
can meet them fairly, and reëstablish the evidence of design on the basis it
ought to stand upon, I shall be satisfied and happy. Anyway, it is a help to
me to have this able presentation brought before me....
May 21.
...I have here and there seen references to St. Augustine as maintaining
views of indirect creation, such as now would be termed, or might be
termed, evolutionary. Can you conveniently put me in the way of
understanding his ideas? It is matter for you to work up in your article on
Calvinism and Evolution....
December 20.
... Do you see No. 1 of the new agnostic weekly, “Evolution,” and its
review of “Darwiniana”? It insists that such a world as ours is too full of
imperfections to have had any intellectual originator....

TO JOHN H. REDFIELD.

July 1, 1876.

Dear Redfield,—I doubt if you know that the late John Stuart Mill, the
philosopher, was a keen botanist. His herbarium, rich in European plants
and with a good many Indian, etc. (small specimens from Royle, etc.), was
given by his stepdaughter to Kew. But Hooker asked leave, after taking a
certain amount, to present the rest to me, with leave to choose where all I
did not care to have incorporated in the herbarium here should go to. I think
it should go to a public herbarium, and as I think the Academy’s is not
supplied well with European species of at all recent date, or recent
collecting, perhaps it should go to you....

TO MRS. GRAY.

June 11, 1876.
... To get my train yesterday I had to leave the house at one. Dom Pedro
till sixteen minutes of that, with Eliot, A. Agassiz, and two Brazilians. They
came to the house, the door being open, and I received them in the library....
Sargent was with me to take him off my hands when I had to go. We treated
him as we should any gentleman, though I believe I once addressed him as
Your Majesty when flourishing the poison-bottle under his nose. He is a
large, square-built, good-looking man of about my age, I think. Never did I
have more questions to answer in ten minutes, nor questions more direct
and to the point. Taken into the herbarium, he recognized what it was,
complimented me by saying that my name was a well-known one (I
suppose Agassiz had put him up to that), and I returned by saying that, in at
least one case, we were members of the same botanical society.
“How many species of plants have you specimens of?” About 65,000.
“How do you arrange them?” Cases opened, and I began to show him.
“Please let me see some plant.”
I pulled out the genus cover first at hand, which happened to be
European Saxifrages; opened. He took up a sheet.
“Saxifraga irrigua, European. I do not want to see plants of Europe. Let
me see an American plant.”
I took another cover and showed Saxifraga peltata of California.
“Have you Sage-brush?” Yes.
“Let me see Sage-brush.”

I took him across the room to the Artemisias, and showed him, first, the
one he saw so much of en route to California; second, the northern one to
which Lewis and Clark gave the name at first.
“How do you prevent insects from destroying them?” They are all
poisoned.
“What do you poison with?” Corrosive sublimate dissolved in alcohol.
“How do you use it?”
Here I ran off and brought back the poison-bottle, and applied the liquid
to a specimen under the imperial nose.
I then ran off to set down the bottle in a safe place on the middle table,
when he followed me up and asked:
“How strong do you make the solution?”
I gave him the answer as well as I could, when he turned to one of his
suite:—
“Please write that down.”
And it was done accordingly. In the library I had displayed, enough to
attract the eye, the bound volumes of “Flora Brasiliensis,” which he glanced
at, and asked:—
“Have you the work on the botany of the vicinity of Rio Janeiro?”
I answered, Yes, thanks to Mr. Agassiz,—to whom the emperor had
given it.
But he seemed uneasy until he saw it, and I put two of the folio volumes
into his hands, which seemed to satisfy him.
Then, as he was passing on to the lecture-room, I slipped off. At head of
Common, in Boston, I met C., who told me Dom Pedro was down at his
museum at 7½ A.M. C. was not going to Hunnewell’s....
I amused them with the account of the conversation with the emperor.
The rhododendrons, and azaleas too, most splendid. Nothing like it at
Philadelphia. The best as well as the most he ever had....

TO R. W. CHURCH.

August 3, 1876.
It is very good of you to write to me. I was about to drop you a line by
the next post, when yours of the 21st came in.

My special object was to tell you that I have just had addressed to you,
through the New York publishers, a little book, made up of scattered papers
on Darwinian topics, which some of my friends thought it might be useful
to collect. I somewhat mistrust their judgment, but have yielded to their
request. There is nothing new in the volume, except a short essay on the
hypothetical duration of species, and a rather long one at the end, upon
teleology as affected by evolution, which I should be glad to have you read,
and should like to know whether you think it hits the mark.
I have no idea who P. C. W. and the Westminster Reviewer may be, but I
suspect they are one and the same. If you should know, please inform me....
Yes, it has been warm enough, and it was unceasingly so for twelve days.
Mrs. Gray rushed to the seashore at Beverly; but I mainly stayed at home,
kept out of the sun all I could, and rather enjoyed the heat than otherwise.
But at the end I broke down; came all at once upon the novel sensation of
being an old man. And so we hastened up and concluded an arrangement
which had been left loosely and vaguely under consideration, viz., to revisit
for myself, and to introduce Mrs. Gray to, the higher Alleghanies in
Virginia, Carolina, and Tennessee, where I used to roam and botanize more
than thirty years ago. We expect to set out in two or three weeks. It is not
Switzerland, but it is a region of mountains, dells, and rills, and forests,
which I have been longing to revisit. Oh, that you could be with us! Two
botanists will join us at Philadelphia, and perhaps a third.
Among the very few copies of my “Darwiniana” which I have sent to
England is one to the editor of the “Spectator,” whose ideas fit in with mine
well, as I judge from reading the paper regularly. Do you know him? He is a
very broad churchman.
I am just beginning to print a portion of my new “Flora of North
America.” There can be no going to Europe for me till this volume or half
volume is off my hands.

Dr. Gray enjoyed greatly the journey through the North Carolina
mountains, and the traveling and accommodations were almost as rough as
in the journeys thirty-three and thirty-five years before. The people, still cut
off from the lower lands by roads that were mostly only used for horses,
and where one traveled sometimes two or three days without meeting a
wheeled vehicle, were very plain and primitive in their ways, and one had

to depend at times on their hospitality for accommodations. But the scenery
is striking and beautiful, and the forest unsurpassed for the magnificence of
its grand trees, rich in variety and beauty. The party went first to New River
Springs, then to the French Broad Hot Springs, and round by a rough
journey to Asheville, then far away from railroads, where they were joined
by Dr. and Mrs. Engelmann, and continued through the mountains to
Cesar’s Head, whence they made their way by railroad through South
Carolina and Georgia to Jonesboro; from Jonesboro going up Roan
Mountain, a camping-out excursion.

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

December 5, 1876.
... Curious that one species should take pains to close fertilize some
flowers, the other to cross all....
Now I want to beg of you to consider about a name for this kind of thing,
on which, as a good judge, you could consult Bentham, or indeed, Hooker,
if he can give it attention.
This matter will need to come into generic or specific characters, and
therefore wants a terse and unambiguous mode of expression in a single
word.
My old expression thirty or so years ago, “diœciodimorphous,” you
reasonably objected to, implying separation of sexes (which, though, it need
not do).
Yours of “dimorphous” should be, as the lawyers say, void for
vagueness, there being plenty of other kinds of dimorphism in flowers.
Hildebrand’s, of “heterostylous,” the difference being in other things as
well as style, and, I think, possible sometimes not in the style. The term will
not work well in characters, whether in Latin or English. I have proposed,
accordingly, in a little article not yet published, to use the term
“heterogone,” in other form “heterogonous,” in Latin “Flores heterogoni,”
with the counterpart “homogone,” “homogonous,” “Flores homogoni.”
This means, you see, explicitly, diverse genitalia, and the [Greek: gonê]
is used as in the common botanical term “perigonium.”

TO R. W. CHURCH.

February 5, 1877.
Your friend Lord Blachford is an unrivaled expositor. I have just been
reading, with extreme satisfaction, his article on the Reality of Duty. That
naturally brought you to mind, and I vowed I would no longer be so
negligent, but would acknowledge and thank you for your letter of August
last, and for Professor Mozley’s sermons. They are excellent indeed, and it
is saddening to have a man of such insight laid aside by illness, of a sort
which probably does not diminish his desire, but destroys his power, to
work....
I think Mrs. Gray has given some account of our summer vacation. I
long to revisit those mountains when the Rhododendrons and Kalmias are
in bloom, and to have your company.
We are just home, Mrs. Gray and I, from a fortnight with our friends at
Washington,—a pleasant holiday, which of late I have always had at this
season, the time of the annual meeting of the regents of the Smithsonian
Institution, of which I am one of the lay (i. e., non-congressional) members.
It makes a break in the monotony of our winter, which is far milder there
than in New England, and the society at Washington is very pleasant. More
and more men of mark, and intelligence, and cultivation reside there, at
least for the winter months. We left on the day when the contested electoral
count began, under the arrangement so happily and hopefully adopted.
There is no excitement, and, outside of partisanship, little care which way it
is determined, but much that it shall be legitimately determined by
evidence, argument, and a decisive judgment.
I am deep in routine botanical work, and with a printer not far behind
me, I can think of little else.

TO G. FREDERICK WRIGHT.

Cambridge, April 6, 1877.
Dear Mr. Wright,—What can I ever have said or written which President
Fairchild takes to mean that I have the preposterous idea that “changes of
environment take place in distinct and definite lines”! He may well ask if
“this is not contrary to all evidence.” Even the conception that variation
takes place in definite, or at least not in indefinite, lines is an idea which is
rather thrown out as tenable, and as inferable from a good many facts, than

as anything to swear by. I think so, yet, I am sorry to say, it is no part of
Darwinism, pure and simple.
Now, in my turn, what does President F. mean by his “mere fact”
“species exist”? That seems to me no fact at all, but an inference.
Individuals exist; species are inferred from the relations the individuals are
observed to sustain to each other. That species are distinct, in the sense of
none blending, is what working naturalists would like to have somebody
settle for them in many a troublesome case. That they always have been as
much so as they are now is the question under consideration....
May 24.
... Now we can’t go to see you, sorry to say. The reason is, that I am
working against time. Hooker is coming over, and we are going in summer
to the Rocky Mountains together, according to an old promise of mine. To
do it I ought to complete the printing of the part of my “Flora” which I am
upon, else I shall suffer in various ways, and there is great danger that I fail.
... Do you notice—I know it will please you—how Kingsley caught at
my essay, which was reprinted in England long ago; see his memoirs.
1877.
I would say to President Fairchild something like this:
Where only one individual out of a thousand or a million can survive to
maturity and propagation, clearly only the very best adapted to the
environment will so survive; and in somewhat different environments, only
those best adapted respectively to the two, three, or more different
environments. The intermediates, i. e., those least particularly adapted to the
two or three different emergencies, surely have least chance.
Now our species of plants and animals are the comparatively few
surviving lines of a great number of lines which have come down through
long and various periods of great tribulation, in the literal sense of the word;
they have been ground over and over, first on this trial, then on that,
leaving, as it seems to me, no chance of the survival, side by side, of all
sorts and shades of intermediate forms. Hence, under this, and the general
law of heredity, the practical distinction of species and genera appears to be
a natural result.
That low, and even the lowest, forms of life should survive and abound
all down the ages, and be the most widely diffused over the earth, seems
also the most natural result, being simple adaptations to simplest conditions

of air and water, so nearly the same the world over. These are still far most
numerous in individuals, and have, so to say, the surest hold on life. When
we think of the vast void below which the “improvement” out of their
sphere of these would leave, and the increased risks which complicated
structure (in machines or beings) has to run, we shall not wonder that the
simple still numerically predominate.

TO CHARLES DARWIN.

Cambridge, June 10, 1877.
My dear Mr. Darwin,—Except when you are to be aided in your work I
decline to give letters of introduction to you, knowing how you are
occupied and how infirm your health at any time may be. So please take
this note to mean just this. The happy couple who bear it would be
delighted to call some day, if you say so, and pay their respects to you, and I
will tell you why I am disposed to promote their wishes.
Mr. Burgess[100] was a favorite pupil of mine, and is a young naturalist
of much promise; not in my department, however, but in entomology. He
takes particularly to the anatomy of insects, draws capitally, and shows
talent for research, which we trust will bring forth good fruit. I cannot
blame him if his modesty and caution have kept him back from publication
as yet, but he has time before him, and even a sight of you will be a
stimulus to his ambition as well as something to remember in after years. I
need not say that he takes to Evolution; all young naturalists of any good
do. He has just married the daughter of my dear old friend, the late Mr.
Sullivant, who did for muscology in this country more than one man is
likely ever to do again. The young lady is very dear to your good friend
Mrs. Gray and to me; and, as you have more than once made a remark
complimentary to American ladies, and as you are such an excellent judge, I
must even give you the opportunity of extending your range of instances.
But please do not give our young friends the opportunity of calling upon
you, unless it quite suits you.
By the time this reaches you, Dr. Hooker will be on the way to us, we
expect, and we are looking to have a great run together over the Rocky
Mountains, and perhaps across the Continent. Wherever we may be, you
may believe me,