THE RISE OF THE SCIENCE OF PLANTS.
John Ray—Joseph de Tournefort—Their lives.
The world went to sleep for many centuries, so far as natural history and
many other things are concerned, after the time of Pliny, and sixteen
hundred years elapsed before any advance was made in botanical knowledge.
This was the age when the only light on the earth was struggling
Christianity, and it was shaded by superstition and violence. At last men
began to learn Greek again, and to read the ancient authors carefully, so
that nature began to be studied. A few foreign botanists began to attempt
to add to the knowledge the ancients had given them, and to classify
plants.
But the first man who made a real advance, and whose work has influenced
the study of plant life down to the present day, was an Englishman,
who was bred in comparative poverty, suffered persecution, and lived a
beautiful life.
The name of this distinguished man was John Ray, and he was the son of
Roger Ray and Elizabeth his wife, being born in 1628. His father was a
blacksmith, of Black Notley, near Braintree, in Essex, and the boy was
sent to school at the Grammar School at Braintree. There he found the
kindness of Mr. Love, the master, in teaching him, a set-off against the
general want of education in the establishment; and he had reason to
be thankful, for before he was sixteen years of age he was sent, from
the school, to Cambridge. He entered at St. Catherine’s Hall, under the
tutorship of Mr. Duckfield. But the youth did not like the Hall; he
wished to study, and the inmates, he said, chiefly addicted themselves
to disputations; so he went to Trinity, where he found the politer arts
and sciences were principally minded and cultivated. Ray worked hard,
and had an excellent tutor, who was a great Greek scholar, and soon made
up for the defective teaching he had had at Braintree. He acquired much
Latin and Greek, and some Hebrew, and it soon became evident that the
youth could speak well and fluently. His leisure was that of a student;
he loved to observe nature, to study the little gems of the garden and
country, and all these things brought him speedily before the notice of
the authorities of the College. When he had been there three years, he
was elected a Minor Fellow, together with his great friend Isaac Barrow,
who had been a Charterhouse boy, and subsequently a scholar at Felsted,
an Essex school. They were the favourite pupils of their master. Ray
took his degree of Bachelor of Arts, and then that of Master of Arts,
becoming then a Major Fellow. In 1651 he was chosen the Greek Lecturer
to the College; two years afterwards Mathematical Lecturer, and in 1655
Humanity Reader. Then he was made Junior Dean and College Steward, and
he became the tutor to many men of subsequent worth, especially to Mr.
Francis Willughby, of Middleton Hall, in Warwickshire. During these
years Ray wandered over the country collecting and studying plants.
He wrote the story of his journeys in and about England, calling them
“Itineraries.” His first journey was in 1658, and he rode from Cambridge
to Northampton; he passed by Higham Ferrers and saw the outside of a
great stone building called a college, and he wrote that Northampton was
indifferently handsome, the houses being built of timber, notwithstanding
the plenty of stone dug in that county. He saw in a Mr. Bowker’s garden
“divers physical plants,” and he noticed the luxuriance of the lupinus
there. Then he went to Warwick by Daventry, and saw Holdenby House. At
Shuckborough he did not see the star-stones he had heard of. He visited
Warwick, but cared more for Guy’s Cliff than for the rib of the dun cow
and Guy’s sword; and then he went into Derbyshire, and investigated the
Pool’s-hole, near Buxton, and noticed the wild flowers of the hills.
Travelling on to North Wales, he visited the brine-pits of Northwych,
and at Chester he noticed the red stone of the cathedral, which he
considered had little beauty within or without. He visited Swindon, and
got home by Shrewsbury and Gloucester. This was a journey done in the
old-fashioned manner, on horseback. It opened Ray’s eyes to the immense
amount of nonsense that was talked about nature, and especially about
any unusual natural phenomenon. He seems especially to have visited the
wells and springs, and he expressed his doubts of the wonderful cures,
attributing his want of belief to his scientific frame of mind.
At this period, it was usual for young men of ability and learning,
though not in orders, to deliver sermons and common-place readings, as
they were called, not only in the chapels or halls of their own colleges,
but even before the University body at St. Mary’s church. In these Ray
eminently distinguished himself. He was among the first who ventured
to lead the attention of his hearers from the unprofitable subtleties
of scholastic divinity and the trammels of the old Greek philosophy
to an observation of nature and a practical investigation of truth.
The rudiments of many of his subsequent writings originated in these
juvenile essays, particularly his celebrated book on the “Wisdom of God
manifested in the Works of the Creation,” known all over the world by
its numerous editions and translations, and universally admired for its
rational piety, sound philosophy, and solid instruction. This book is
the basis of the labours of all those divines who have made the book of
nature a commentary on the book of revelation, a confirmation of truths
which nature has not authority of herself to establish. In it the author
inculcates the doctrine of a constantly superintending Providence, as
well as the advantage, and even the duty, of contemplating the works of
God. “This,” he says, “is part of the business of a Sabbath-day, as it
will be, probably, of our employment through that eternal rest of which
the Sabbath is a type.” Archbishop Tenison is recorded to have told Dr.
Derham that “Mr. Ray was much celebrated in his time at Cambridge for
preaching solid and useful divinity, instead of that enthusiastic stuff
which the sermons of that time were generally filled with.” It would be
refreshing to hear a Ray in the nineteenth century. Two of his funeral
discourses are mentioned with particular approbation; one, on the death
of Dr. Arrowsmith, master of his college; the other, on that of one
of his most intimate and beloved colleagues, Mr. John Nid, likewise a
Senior Fellow of Trinity, who had a great share in Ray’s first botanical
publication, the “Catalogus Plantarum circa Cantabrigiam nascentium,”
printed in 1660 (a catalogue of plants growing around Cambridge). Before
this little volume appeared, its author had visited various parts
of England and Wales for the purpose of investigating their native
plants, as he did several times afterwards. Nor were his observations
confined to natural history, but extended to local and general history,
antiquities, the arts, and all kinds of useful knowledge. Ray’s first
botanical tour occupied nearly six weeks, from August 9th to September
18th, 1658. On the 23rd of December, 1660, he was ordained both deacon
and priest at the same time by Dr. Sanderson, then Bishop of Lincoln.
In 1661 he travelled with Mr. Willughby into Scotland, returning by
Cumberland and Westmoreland; and the following year, with the same
companion, he accomplished a more particular investigation of Wales. How
critically he studied the botany of the countries he visited, is evident
from the different editions of his works called “A Catalogue of British
Plants,” and “A Methodical Synopsis of British Wild Plants.” In fact, Ray
felt the necessity of being able to recognize plants by their accurate
descriptions, and saw that classification was the alphabet of the science.
All this time Mr. Ray continued to enjoy his fellowship and to cultivate
his Cambridge connections; but in September, 1662, his tranquillity
was disturbed by the too famous Bartholomew Act, by which two thousand
conscientious divines were turned out of their livings, and many
fellows of colleges deprived of their maintenance and means of literary
improvement. Among the latter was the subject of our memoir, with
thirteen honest men at Cambridge besides, of whose names he has left us
a list. One of them, Dr. Dillingham, was master of Emanuel College; but
Ray was the only person of his own college who suffered this deprivation.
One of Ray’s biographers writes:—“The reader must not suppose that he,
or perhaps any other person in this illustrious catalogue, was in the
least degree deficient in attachment to the doctrine or discipline of the
Church of England, or that they had taken the oath, called the Solemn
League and Covenant, which Ray certainly had neither taken nor even
approved. They were required to swear to the infamous proposition that
the said oath was not binding to those who had taken it, and on this
ground they conscientiously gave up their preferment.” It is curious to
read the apology made for Ray, to Dr. Derham on this subject, by a Mr.
Brokesby, “that he was at that time absent from his college, where he
might have met with satisfaction to his scruples, and was among some
zealous nonconformists who too much influenced him by the addition of
new scruples. And we may also ascribe somewhat to the prejudice of
education in unhappy times.” By this it appears that the “scruples” of
nonconformists were most favourable to the sanctity of an oath, and that
the “unhappy times” alluded to were more advantageous to principle than
the golden days of Charles II., whose ministers doubtless valued the
obedience far more than the honesty of any man; nor was this taste by any
means peculiar to them or their profligate master.
Mr. Ray (or, as he wrote his name for a while about this period, Wray),
having thus the world before him, made an arrangement with Mr. Willughby
for a tour on the Continent; and in this plan two of his pupils were
included, Mr. Nathaniel Bacon and Mr., afterwards Sir Philip, Skippon.
They sailed for Calais in April, 1663, but being prevented by the state
of political affairs from prosecuting their journey through France,
they traversed the Low Countries and Germany, proceeding by Venice into
Italy, most of whose cities they visited, either by sea or land, as well
as Malta and Sicily; and returned by Switzerland, through France, into
England in the spring of 1666.
Mr. Willughby, indeed, separated from the rest of the party at
Montpellier, and visited Spain. An ample account of their observations
was published by Ray in 1673, making a thick octavo volume. The
travellers studied politics, literature, natural history, mechanics, and
philosophy, as well as antiquities and other curiosities; but in the
fine arts they assume no authority, nor display any considerable taste
or knowledge. Mr. Willughby’s account of Spain makes a part by itself,
and a rich critical catalogue of such plants, not, for the most part,
natives of England, as were observed in this tour, concludes the volume.
There is no doubt that Ray has the credit of having discovered several
species of plants in Switzerland not previously known to belong to that
country. Ray passed the summer of 1666 partly at Black Notley, and partly
in Sussex, studying chiefly the works of Hook, Boyle, Sydenham, on
fevers, and the “Philosophical Transactions,” “making few discoveries,”
says he, “save of mine own errors.” The following winter he was employed
at Mr. Willughby’s, in arranging that gentleman’s museum of seeds, dried
plants, birds, fishes, shells, and other objects of natural history and
coins, and in forming tables of plants and animals for the use of Dr.
Wilkins. He began to arrange a catalogue of the English native plants
which he had gathered, rather for his own use than with any immediate
view of publication at present. He wrote to Dr. Lister, “The world is
glutted with bungling;” “I resolve never to put out anything which is
not as perfect as is possible for me to make it. I wish you would take a
little pains this summer about grasses, that so we might compare notes.”
The above resolution of our author is no doubt highly commendable, but
the world has rather to lament that so many able men have formed the
same determination, at least in natural science. If it were universally
adhered to, scarcely any work would see the light, for few can be so
sensible of the defects of any other person’s attempt to illustrate the
works of nature, as a man of tolerable judgment must be of his own.
This is especially the case with those who, like Ray, direct their
aspiring views towards system and philosophical theory. Happily he did
not try this arduous path, till he had trained himself by wholesome
practical discipline in observation and experience. His first botanical
works assumed the humble form of alphabetical catalogues. His and Mr.
Willughby’s labours in the service of Bishop Wilkins were, indeed, of a
systematical description, and accordingly the authors themselves were
probably more dissatisfied than any other persons with their performance.
They relaxed from these labours in a tour of practical observation
through the west of England, as far as the Land’s End, in the summer
of 1667, and returning by London, Mr. Ray was solicited to become a
Fellow of the Royal Society, into which learned body he was admitted
November 7th. Being now requested by his friend Wilkins to translate his
celebrated work, “An Essay towards a Real Character and a Philosophical
Language,” into Latin, he undertook, and by degrees accomplished, that
arduous performance. The following summer was agreeably spent in visits
to various literary friends, and in a solitary journey to the north. His
former companion, Willughby, being just married, stayed at home; but Ray
joined him in September, 1668, and remained for most part of the ensuing
winter and spring.
The seclusion and leisure of the country, with the converse and
assistance of such a friend, were favourable to the prosecution of a
new subject of inquiry, which now strongly attracted the attention of
our great naturalist—the theory of vegetation. The first step of the
two philosophers in this little-explored path was an examination of
the motion of the sap in trees; and the result of their inquiries,
communicated to the Royal Society, appeared soon after in the
“Philosophical Transactions.” Their experiments clearly prove the
ascent of the sap through the woody part of the tree, which is easily
detected by boring the trunks at different depths before their leaves
are unfolded; and they observed, also, the mucilaginous nature of the
flowing sap, “precipitating a kind of white coagulum or jelly, which,”
says Ray, in a note preserved by Derham, “may be well conceived to be
the part, which every year, between bark and tree turns to wood, and
of which the leaves and fruits are made. And it seems to precipitate
more when the tree is just ready to put out leaves and begins to cease
dropping, than at its first bleeding.” The accuracy of the leading facts
recorded by these ingenious men is confirmed by subsequent observers,
who have further pursued the same subject, which is now sufficiently
well understood. The sap originates in the liquid matters which are
absorbed by the roots of plants; they enter the minute cells of the ends
of the roots and permeate the cellular tissue. This sap ascends in the
plant, assisted by the evaporation from the leaves. The sap ascends with
considerable rapidity to the leaves, where it is subject to changes, the
result of physiological action. It descends from the leaves, having had
its chemical constitution altered, and is fit for the nutrition of the
plant. The sap ascends through the cellular and woody tissue, especially
in the layers of wood not more than two years old. The hard heartwood
does not convey sap, but in some trees, like the poplar, sap moves in the
very centre.
The elaborated sap returns from the leaves in a slow stream, through the
delicate cellular structures of the bark, right down to the root, giving
rise to the cambium layer, from the inner surface of which the annual
layer of young wood is formed.
At this time Ray began to prepare for the press his “Collection of
Proverbs,” a curious book in its way, by which he is perhaps better known
to the generality of his countrymen, than by any other of his literary
labours.
The first edition was published in 1672, but the work was subsequently
much enlarged, and the author may almost be said to have exhausted his
subject. From its very nature, delicacy and refinement had often to be
dispensed with, but this is evidently not the fault or the aim of the
writer. His learning and critical acuteness diffuse light over the whole,
and make us overlook the coarse vehicle of our instruction. The first
edition of the “Catalogue of English Plants,” already mentioned, came
out in 1670, and the second in 1677. Their great author gave his work
to the world with that diffidence for which he alone, perhaps, could
perceive any just foundation. It was a wonderful book, considering that
there was no recognized authority to help the author, who, seeing that
there must be some real method in nature, strove to arrange or classify
plants by the similarity or dissimilarity of those structures which
were of the greatest importance. About this period the health of Mr. Ray
seems to have been considerably impaired. He refused a tempting offer
to travel again on the Continent, as tutor to three young noblemen; nor
could the powerful attractions of Alpine botany, which was then to be
studied, overcome that reluctance to leaving home, which arose from a
feeble state of body. Indeed, this very reluctance or listlessness is
accounted for by the turn which his disorder took, as it terminated in
the jaundice. After this depressing complaint had left him, Ray resumed
his botanical travels at home with fresh alacrity, visiting the rich
stores of the north of England, with a companion named Thomas Willisel,
whose name and discoveries he subsequently gratefully commemorated on
many occasions. Nothing forms a more striking feature in Ray’s character
than the unreserved and abundant commendation which he always gave to
his friends and fellow-labourers. Then unfortunately an event occurred
which called forth his affectionate feelings. On the 3rd of July, 1672,
Mr. Willughby was unexpectedly carried off by an acute disorder, in the
thirty-seventh year of his age. The care of his two infant sons was
confided by himself to Mr. Ray, who was also appointed one of his five
executors, and to whom he left an annuity of sixty pounds for life. The
eldest of these youths was created a baronet at the age of ten years, but
died before he was twenty. Their sister, Cassandra, afterwards married
the Duke of Chandos. Thomas, the younger son, was one of the ten peers
created, all on the same day, by Queen Anne, and received the title of
Lord Middleton. The care of his pupils, and of the literary concerns of
their deceased parent, now interrupted Mr. Ray’s botanizing excursions,
and caused him also to decline the offer of Dr. Lister, then a physician
at York, to settle under his roof. Bishop Wilkins did not long survive
Mr. Willughby, and his death made another chasm in the scientific and
social circle of our great natural philosopher, who felt these losses
as deeply and tenderly as any man. He sought consolation in a domestic
attachment, fixing his choice on a young woman of good parentage, whose
name was Margaret Oakley, and who resided in the family at Middleton
Hall. He was married at the parish church, June 5th, 1673, being then in
the forty-fifth year of his age, and his bride about twenty. This lady
took a share in the early education of his pupils, as far as concerned
their reading English. She is said to have been recommended by her
character, as well as by her person, to the regard of her husband. She
bore him three daughters who, with their mother, survived him.
The first fruit of our author’s leisure and retirement was a book on
a new classification of plants, published in 1682. His principles
of arrangement are chiefly derived from the fruit. The regularity
and irregularity of flowers, which took the lead in the system of
contemporary botanists, made no part of that of Ray. It is remarkable
that he adopts the ancient primary division of plants into trees, shrubs,
and herbs, and that he blamed Rivinus, one of his fellow-labourers,
for abolishing it, though his own prefatory remarks tend to overset
that principle, as a vulgar and casual one, unworthy of a philosopher.
That his system was not merely a commodious artificial aid to practical
botany, but a philosophical clue to a correct natural classification, he
probably, like his fellow-labourers for many years in this department,
believed, yet he was too modest and too learned to think he had
brought the new and arduous design to perfection. For whatever he
has incidentally or deliberately thrown out respecting the value of
his labours, is often marked with more diffidence on the subject of
classification than any other. The great service that Ray did to botany
was the foreshadowing the so-called natural system of classification,
which was to supersede the artificial system of Linnæus, which will be
described in a future page. He first applied his system to practical
use in a general “History of Plants,” of which the first volume, a
thick folio, was published in 1686, and the second in 1687. The third
volume of the same work, which is supplementary, came out in 1704. This
vast and critical compilation is still in use as a book of reference,
being particularly valuable as an epitome of the contents of various
rare and expensive works, which ordinary libraries cannot possess. The
description of species is faithful and instructive, the remarks original,
bounded only by the whole circuit of the botanical learning of that day;
nor are generic characters neglected, however vaguely they are assumed.
Specific differences do not enter regularly into the author’s plan, nor
has he followed any uniform rules of nomenclature. So ample a transcript
of the practical knowledge of such a botanist cannot but be a treasure;
yet it is now much neglected, few persons being learned enough to use it
with facility for want of figures and a popular nomenclature; and those
who are, seldom requiring its assistance.
But if the fame or the utility of Ray’s botanical work has neither of
them been commensurate with the expectations that might have been formed,
a little octavo volume which he gave to the world in 1690, amply supplied
all such defects, and proved the great corner-stone of his reputation in
this department of science. This was “A Methodical Synopsis of British
Wild Plants.” The two editions of his alphabetical catalogue of English
plants being sold off, and some pettifogging reasons of his booksellers
standing in the way of a third, with any improvements, he remodelled the
work, throwing it into a systematic form, revising the whole, supplying
generic characters, with numerous additions of species and various
emendations and remarks. The uses and medicinal qualities of the plants
are removed to the alphabetical index at the end. A second edition of
this “Synopsis” was published in 1693, but its author never prepared
another. The third, now most in use, was edited twenty-eight years
afterward by Dillenius. Of all the systematical and practical floras of
any country the second edition of Ray’s “Synopsis” was the most perfect
of his time, and for many a long year afterwards. “He examined every
plant recorded in his work, and even gathered most of them himself. He
investigated their different names with consummate accuracy; and if the
clearness and precision of other authors had equalled his, he would
scarcely have committed an error. It is difficult to find him in a
mistake or misconception respecting nature herself, though he sometimes
misapprehends the bad figures or lame descriptions he was obliged to
consult.” Above a hundred species are added in this second edition, and
the cryptogamic plants in particular are more amply elucidated. The
work led to much disputing, but Ray took no delight in controversy; its
inevitable asperities were foreign to his nature. One of the biographers
of Ray writes: “We must not omit to notice that in the preface to
both editions of his ‘Synopsis’ the learned author, venerable for his
character, his talents, and his profession, as well as by his noble
adherence to principle in the most corrupt times, has taken occasion
to congratulate his country, and to pour out his grateful effusions to
Divine Providence in a style worthy of Milton for the establishment of
religion, law, and liberty by the revolution which placed King William
on the throne. An honest Englishman, however retired in his habits and
pursuits, could not have withheld this tribute at such a time, nor was
any loyalty ever more personally disinterested than that of Ray.” The
year 1690 was the date of the first publication of his noble work on “The
Wisdom of God in Creation,” of which we have already spoken, and whose
sale through many editions was very extensive. In 1700 he printed a book
more exclusively within the sphere of his sacred profession, called “A
Persuasive to a Holy Life,” a rare performance of the kind at that day,
being devoid of enthusiasm, mysticism, or cant, as well as of religious
bigotry or party spirit, “and employing the plain and solid arguments
of reason for the best of purposes.” His three “Physico-Theological
Discourses concerning the Chaos, Deluge, and Dissolution of the World,”
of which the original materials had been collected and prepared formerly
at Cambridge, came out in 1692, and were reprinted the following year. A
third edition, superintended by Derham, was published in 1713. This able
editor took up the same subject himself, in a similar performance, the
materials of which, like Ray’s, were first delivered in sermons at Bow
church, he having been appointed reader of Mr. Boyle’s lectures.
Ray studied animals as carefully as he did plants, and his influence
on zoology will be noticed further on in this book, and he revised a
translation of Rauwolff’s travels, and gave a catalogue of Grecian,
Syrian, Egyptian, and Cretan plants. Ever wishing for the truth, he was
led during a correspondence with Rivinus, a foreign botanist, to revise
his system of the classification of plants, and to include that of his
friend in it. Ray was impressed with the greater importance of the seeds
and fruits of plants in classification than of the leaves and floral
envelopes; Rivinus and others believed in the superior importance of
the flower as a means of distinguishing and grouping plants. After due
consideration, Ray included part of the plan of his friend, but it is
certain that plants cannot be safely grouped, in every instance, by the
similarity of their flowers.
All this correspondence and alteration of systems was extremely useful,
for it led to the foundation of what is called the natural system of
classification, in opposition to the artificial style, which was founded
by the great man whose life will be noticed in the next chapter.
Ray lived a long, happy, and useful life, and died at Black Notley, in
a house of his own building, in 1705, in the seventy-seventh year of
his age. A friend wrote of him: “In his dealings, no man more strictly
just; in his conversation, no man more humble, courteous, and affable;
towards God no man more devout; and towards the poor and distressed no
man more compassionate and charitable according to his abilities.” He
was buried, according to his own wish, at Black Notley; but he would not
have his body buried in the chancel of the church, choosing rather to
repose with his ancestors in the churchyard. Ray died rich in honours,
but not rich in money, as he had to give up his living in the Church for
conscience’ sake and conform as a layman. He was singularly charitable in
his opinions to others; and as his work has lasted until the present day,
and has influenced the progress of natural history, England may well be
proud of the blacksmith’s son.
Joseph Pitton de Tournefort was born at Aix, in France, in 1656. He was
of a noble family, and was educated with care, and had all the comforts
of life. Living, however, far away from the gay scenes of Paris and in a
country town, Tournefort soon began to wander over the fields by himself,
and, like most boys, he loved to gather flowers. More than this, he began
to study them. But such pleasures were not to be his at once, for his
parents destined him to be a priest, and he was obliged to enter the
Catholic seminary at Aix. There he began to learn Latin, and in course
of time became a great proficient, speaking and writing that language
well, which at that time was fairly known by every educated person. His
theological studies were rather neglected by him, and whenever he had the
opportunity, he got books on natural philosophy, chemistry, medicine,
and, above all, on botany. He studied them with great assiduity, and
until he was twenty-one years of age. Tournefort’s father died in 1677,
and the young man then being independent, threw off his cap and gown,
said good-bye to the seminary and its priests, and devoted himself
forthwith and as long as life lasted to the science of natural history,
and especially to botany.
He did not rest satisfied with the books of Plinius and Aristoteles, or
of the feeble botanists of his youth, but he intended to study plants
as they grew, to discover their uses, and to endeavour to classify and
name them. Besides, he got a love for the healing art, for one of his
first teachers was a chemist of Aix, who gave him lessons about the
common simple plants which were used in medicine. So, after roaming
over the country far and wide, month after month, and collecting
plants in Provence, on the mountains of Dauphiné and Savoy, he went to
Montpellier in 1679 to study anatomy and medicine. The young student
was there for two years, and then he seems to have set the example to
his fellow-students, for botanical excursions became a favourite method
of passing away time. In 1681, in company with several fellow-students,
he went to the Pyrenees, and wandered about those difficult mountains,
submitting to much fatigue, cold, and hunger. Very robust in health,
and vigorous, his fatigues and hard fare seemed to do him good, and at
last he obtained a very fine collection of the plants of that region.
It is always told that the ardent young botanist and his friends got
into trouble, being taken prisoners more than once by _Miguelites_
(smugglers); but it is not likely that those people got much out of them.
On his return home he found that his reputation as a practical botanist
and as knowing useful plants, had spread about, although he had not
written any work at that time. M. Fagon, a distinguished botanist of
the age, was physician to Louis XIV., and had had many an excursion to
collect plants in Provence, Languedoc, and Auvergne, before he became
a great man at court. He got plants from those localities, and had
them planted in the botanic gardens, of which the king was fond; and,
fortunately for his prospects in life, he discovered the medicinal uses
of some natural baths at Barèges, which he recommended to the Duc de
Maine. On his return to Paris, M. Fagon was made professor of botany and
chemistry to the Jardin des Plantes, and subsequently became physician
to the king and princes, and director of the gardens. M. Fagon wanted
help, for little was known about the plants of the countries beyond
Europe, and he sought the services of a young and wise botanist who had
plenty of energy. He destined young Tournefort for a great career, and
offered him the professorship of the Botanic garden, intending that
the young teacher, after a while, should travel, and collect for the
garden. Finding the prospects good, Tournefort accepted the position, and
desirous of adding to the collection of plants, visited Spain again, and
then Portugal. Subsequently he came over to England, and then collected
in Holland. His name was well known as that of a practical botanist,
and the Dutch offered him a professorship at Leyden. He was elected
to the highest scientific honour in France—to the membership of the
Academy of Science. Two years afterwards Tournefort published his first
and great work, “The Elements of Botany, or a method of Distinguishing
Plants.” This work established his reputation all over Europe. It was
a very remarkable book. Tournefort travelled in Asia Minor, Circassia,
Georgia, Northern Assyria, Candia, and Greece, and was the first man
who gave publicity to the truth that the same plants are not found in
all countries, and that most countries have many plants peculiar to
them. He may be said to have founded the science of the geographical
distribution of plants. His descriptions of plants were 10,000 in number;
their arrangement in species and genera was excellent. Less praise must
be given about the manner of his separating the greater divisions of
the plants one from the other. Nevertheless, much of the work of this
great traveller has lasted until the present day as good science. Plants
are arranged in species, which consist of individuals, having a close
structural resemblance without any constant differences of the form
of the stem, roots, leaves, flowers, and seeds. A genus is a group of
species with a general resemblance, some special character predominating.
An order is a number of more or less similar genera, and a class contains
orders which have greater resemblance than those of another class.
All this classification relates to accurate observation and description,
and then to comparison, and the greater the knowledge of the botanist
of species and genera the more useful it is. There is a difficulty in
selecting those parts of a plant which should be those on which the
classification should depend, and this was the stumbling-block with these
early botanists. Ray saw the value of the seed and of the reproductive
organs in classification, and Tournefort, although he erred in
classifying his “classes” by the coloured part of the flower or corolla,
followed nature accurately in his description, and reasoned upon the
facts he had discovered.
This botanist, who lived in the days of great luxury, and when war
was almost constant, pursued his useful and simple career, and by his
collections alone, assisted in laying the foundations of botany as a
science. His travels in the East read like romances, for the habits
of Eastern nations were then but little known; and, moreover, the
diligent student was a scholar, and paid great attention to the splendid
antiquities which he constantly saw. Tournefort studied the zoology of
the countries he passed through, and was an adept in mineralogy. On
his return from his long journey in the East he was made Professor of
Medicine to the College de France. For the future his life was destined
to be quiet, happy it appears always to have been. Year after year he
laboured in arranging, cultivating, and describing the treasure of plants
he had brought from the East and elsewhere. Moreover, he taught as
professor. His end was sudden, for he met with an accident in the street,
and was killed by a passing waggon.
Tournefort’s important work was the forming a great amount of good
knowledge about the species of plants, and the arranging them in a
systematic order. But, as has been mentioned, he was a founder of the
science of the distribution of plants. He appears to have laboured
independently of Ray, his English fellow-botanist, whose method was the
best of the two. There are twenty-two classes in Tournefort’s method,
chiefly arranged, as has been stated, by the form of the corolla,
comparatively an unimportant structure. He distinguishes herbs and
under-shrubs on the one hand, from trees and shrubs on the other. His
system of classification was much used on the Continent, until it was
found to be less easy of application than that of Linnæus.
The life of Ray, by Dr. Derham and Sir J. E. Smith, is to be found in the
“Memorials of John Ray,” in the publications of the Ray Society, 1846.
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