1896
SIR JOSEPH HOOKER
In 1896 I brought out a little book, “The Bamboo Garden,” which was
very well received, though naturally it appealed only to a very limited
public. Besides a few indulgent friends, it could only interest those
who possess gardens of sufficient importance to enable them to grow the
plants of which it treats. If I remember right the first account handed
in by the publishers showed a deficit which had to be wiped out by a
considerable cheque. In time the edition became exhausted and the book is
now out of print, so I suppose that in the long run I was no great loser.
However, it brought me one triumph which was worth more than money. If
anybody had told me beforehand that I should be mentioned in Sir Joseph
Hooker’s great work, “The Flora of British India,” I should have deemed
it as improbable as that I should be made a Knight of the Garter. But
wonderful as it is to me, there I am!
My pride may be forgiven if I copy what the great man said. After some
preliminary remarks about the Arundinaria tribe, he writes: “Since
the above was written, Mr. Freeman-Mitford’s ‘The Bamboo Garden’ has
appeared, a work replete with valuable observations upon the habits, mode
of growth, and other characters of the hardy species of bamboo, including
five Indian, cultivated by him. In it is pointed out (see ‘Arundinaria
Simoni,’ p. 60) for the first time the true characters of the two types
of sheath and blade that occur in bamboos, and which do not, so far as I
know, in any other tribe of grasses. In a communication which Mr. Mitford
has been good enough to make to me on this subject, he has formulated
his views as follows, and has kindly allowed me to introduce them here.”
Then follows a technical paper by me for which there is no place here.
Was I not justified in feeling proud?
The Secretaryship of the Office of Works brought me into relations with
many of the princes of science, among them there was none who inspired
me with more respect than Sir Joseph Hooker; indeed, for various reasons
we were brought together so closely that what began as a very pleasant
friendship warmed into an affection which only ceased with his life. He
retired from his official position at Kew in 1885, and from that time
till his death, in 1911, we remained in intimate correspondence.
He was delightful in conversation. He had done so much and seen so much
from the time when he qualified as a surgeon in order to accompany Sir
James Ross as botanist in the _Erebus_ on the Antarctic Expedition of
1839. He had known practically all the eminent men of science of Europe
and America, and was himself the last survivor of the mighty triumvirate,
Darwin, Hooker, Huxley, whom I also knew as a most charming personality.
A notable feature in Hooker’s character was his extreme modesty. Of
his apprenticeship in surgery—no mean feat, accomplished as it was
in a few months—he was wont to talk as if it had been no more than a
boyish lark. Of his great journey in India,—pregnant with important
scientific results,—he spoke as if it had been the mere holiday trip of
a restless Englishman, whereas it produced not only what was admittedly
one of the best books of travel that ever were written, but also gave
evidence of undaunted courage and of the most astute diplomatic talent
in dealing with critical and unexpected conditions. Simple he was, and
self-effacing, yet when Kew was attacked and a powerful Minister, Mr.
Ayrton, whom Dizzy once called the cleverest member of the House of
Commons, attempted to reduce the noble scientific institution of which
he was the head to the level of the nurserymaid and her perambulator,
he could show fight to the death, and he won. In order that Kew should
be beautiful, he was willing to work with all his might. But it must
be something else besides: it must be a school of botany for the whole
world. Its first duty was to science.
The correspondence with myself upon the subject of bamboos, to which I
have alluded above, bore witness to that quality of modesty which is the
hall-mark of the greatest men, at any rate, it is only the greatest that
possess it. Writing to me once upon a technical point, he told me that he
thought I was wrong. Very timidly, and very respectfully, I stuck to my
guns, and gave my reasons. His answer was characteristic. He admitted the
truth of what I had urged upon him, saying, “Never hesitate to correct me
if I am wrong.” That, coming from so great a man, was magnificent.
Hooker’s life was ideally beautiful. Following in the footsteps of his
distinguished father, who was his first master and whom he adored with
all that strength of veneration and love which he showed in all his
friendships, for instance in that with Darwin, he lived to be recognized
both at home and abroad as the greatest of living botanists. In middle
life he passed through a period of delicate health which certainly gave
no promise of the ripe old age which he attained. In 1865, as Sir William
Thiselton Dyer tells us, he was so ill that he had to be carried in
blankets by four men to see his dead father’s body leave the house.
In 1876, when I was Secretary of the Office of Works, under which Kew
at that time was placed, Sir Joseph came to me and said that the work,
especially the correspondence with the colonies, had assumed such
dimensions that it was impossible for him to carry it on single-handed.
Lord Salisbury was, of all the Ministry, the man most interested in
science, so, although the matter did not concern his department—then the
India Office—I thought it would be a good thing to bespeak his support
in the Cabinet before bringing forward a matter involving extra expense.
Lord Salisbury was most sympathetic, and in the end Mr. (now Sir William)
Thiselton Dyer was appointed Assistant Director.
Kew went on and prospered greatly; but in 1885 Sir Joseph’s old symptoms
began to reappear and he had to resign. Upon the strength of a memorandum
written by me, Sir William was appointed to succeed him. Sir William
Dyer, to my great regret, has told the world in his obituary notices of
Sir Joseph in the Proceedings of the Royal Society and in the “Dictionary
of National Biography” that Kew “in 1850 passed to the control of the
Office of Works, to which officially it was only a pleasure ground
and which _never_ felt much sympathy for its scientific character and
functions.” I have underlined the word _never_ because it could only
mean that Sir William was not referring exclusively to the wretched old
hostility shown by Mr. Ayrton. That Sir Joseph did not always take the
same view of the relations between himself and the office of which I was
the head for twelve years—far longer than any other secretary—is proved
by sheaves of letters which I received from him in which he constantly
alludes to the support which I personally gave him. Moreover, those
letters mostly end with the words, “Yours affectionately.” Had I felt
no sympathy with Kew, Sir Joseph would hardly have shown the deepest
sympathy with me for thirty-seven years. As a complete answer to Sir
William Dyer’s twice published attack I am tempted to bring forward
Sir Joseph Hooker’s dedication to me of the volume of the _Botanical
Magazine_ for 1897.
“The Camp, Sunningdale, December 1st, 1897.
“MY DEAR MITFORD,
“Duty and pleasure alike prompt me to offer you the dedication
of vol. cxxiii. of the _Botanical Magazine_, giving me as it
does the opportunity of recalling the years of our cordial
official co-operation when the Royal Gardens profited so
greatly in every department through your energy, foresight, and
love of plants.
“To this claim I must surely add the service you have rendered
to horticulture and botany by your labours in introducing,
cultivating and studying the hardy bamboos, of which your
charming work, ‘The Bamboo Garden,’ is the first-fruits. Nor
can I omit an allusion to your own garden, unrivalled as it is
amongst the private collections of hardy plants in Europe for
extent, scientific interest and beauty.
“Believe me, my dear Mitford,
“Affectionately yours,
“J. D. HOOKER.”
Armed with this, to Sir William Dyer I think I can say “habet!”
In spite of the two alarms of 1865 and 1885, Sir Joseph Hooker’s
vitality was so great that he lived till 1911, and was able to labour
on until the summer of that year. Only a few months before his death he
wrote to me about the work upon which he was engaged, a study of the
balsams, and told me with pride that he was able to use his microscope as
well as ever.
I went to see him that summer in his lovely suntrap at Sunningdale. He
was the same bright, cheerful friend of old days and most affectionate
in his welcome. The microscope and the MSS. littered on his study
table still spoke of work, work, work. “It’s dogged as does it,” was
a favourite quotation of his. We went into the garden and Lady Hooker
gave us tea under the trees. He chatted gaily over old times and about
old friends, and was greatly interested in the talk of an American
lady, a lover of trees, who had come to pay him a visit. But in spite
of his indomitable spirits I found him much aged during the last few
months—indeed, at ninety-four that was to be expected, and I felt that
this would be our last meeting. I was not much surprised when I heard
that on the 10th of December the dear old man had passed away, mercifully
and painlessly, in his sleep.