CHAPTER XXXVIII

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.

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