... 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 Sundaymorning 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, whenwe 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 nineP.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 gatheredat 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 greatestthings. 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 tobe 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; butthe 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 inthe 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 theevening, 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 Naplesthe 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 fourP.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 behindus 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 monthsin 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 nearlynil, 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 ofnice 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 relatehow 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., thinkingfacile descensusinapplicable 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 perfectlysuit 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 themgirareingover 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 myselfen rapportI 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 camein 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 affectionateAsa 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, breakfastingwith 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, withother 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 reachQueenstown 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., theattenuation 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 seeof 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 inthe 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 havemychurch 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 themselvesso. 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.” Mostuncivilly, 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 wesupposed 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 restof 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 comeup 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 careand 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 theIliad? 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.