History of botany (1530–1860)/Book 1/Chapter 2

by Julius von Sachs

CHAPTER II.

Artificial Systems and Terminology of Organs from Cesalpino to Linnaeus.

1583–1760

While botany was being developed in Germany and the Netherlands in the manner described in the previous chapter, and long before this process of development reached its furthest point in Kaspar Bauhin, Andrea Cesalpino in Italy was laying down the general plan, on which the further advance of descriptive botany was to proceed in the 17th and till far into the 18th century; all that was done in the 17th century in Germany, England, and France towards furthering morphology and systematic botany was done with a reference to Cesalpino's principles, whether these were accepted and made use of, or whether it was sought to refute them. This connection with Cesalpino became gradually less close and less obvious, being concealed by new points of view and by the increase of material for observation; but Cesalpino's ideas on the theoretical principles of systematic botany and the nature of plants appear so plainly, even in the views of Linnaeus, that no one can read both authors without lighting not unfrequently upon passages in Linnaeus' 'Fundamenta' or in his 'Philosophia Botanica,' which remind him of Cesalpino, and even upon sentences borrowed from him. As we saw in Kaspar Bauhin the close of the course of development commenced by Fuchs and Bock, so we may regard Linnaeus as having built up and completed the edifice of doctrine founded by Cesalpino.

Cesalpino comes before us, in strong contrast with the simple-minded empiricism of the German fathers of botany, as the thinker in presence of the vegetable world. Their main task was the amassing descriptions of individual plants. Cesalpino made the material gathered by experience the subject of earnest reflection; he sought especially to obtain universals from particulars, important principles from sensuous perceptions; but as his forms of thought were entirely Aristotelian, it was inevitable that his interpretation of the facts should introduce into them much that would have to be got rid of subsequently by the inductive method. Cesalpino differs also from the German botanists in another respect; he did not rest satisfied with the general impression produced by the plants, but carefully examined the separate parts and paid attention to the small and concealed organs; he was the first who converted observation into real scientific research; and thus we find in him a remarkable union of inductive natural science and Aristotelian philosophy, a mixture which gives a peculiar character to the theoretical efforts of his successors down to Linnaeus.

Cesalpino was moreover much before his time in his mode of contemplating the vegetable kingdom, seeking always for philosophical combinations and comprehensive points of view. His work which appeared in 1583 exercised no perceptible influence on his contemporaries; a trace of such influence only may be seen in Kaspar Bauhin thirty or forty years later, while the work of the botanists who followed Bauhin down to 1670 was confined everywhere to increasing the knowledge of individual plants. With this object travels were undertaken after 1600 to all parts of the world; many new botanic gardens were added to the few which had been founded in the 16th century—as at Giessen in 1617, at Paris in 1620, at Jena in 1629, at Oxford in 1632, at Amsterdam in 1646, at Utrecht in 1650. Instead of endeavouring to embrace with their labours the whole vegetable kingdom, botanists preferred to devote themselves to the examination of single districts. This gave rise to the first local floras (the word flora, however, was first introduced by Linnaeus in the next century), and of these Germany especially soon produced a considerable number; a flora of Altorf was published by Ludwig Jungermann in 1615, of Ingolstadt by Albert Menzel in 1618, of Giessen by Jungermann in 1623, of Dantzic by Nicolaus Oelhafen in 1643, of Halle by Carl Scheffer in 1662, of the Palatinate by Frank von Frankenau in 1680, of Leipsic by Paul Ammann in 1675, of Nuremberg by J. Z. Volkamer in 1700.

But though travel, catalogues in local floras, and the cultivation of plants in botanic gardens promote knowledge of very varied kind, yet this remains scattered about among descriptions of plants, until at last a writer with powers of combination and wider and deeper glance endeavours to gain some general conclusions from them. Such attempts we first meet with late in the second half of the 17th century in Morison, Ray, Bachmann (Rivinus), Tournefort, and others, who took up Cesalpino's principles after they had lain neglected for almost a hundred years, and indeed were almost forgotten by botanists.

In the dearth of higher scientific efforts during this period, the describing of plants and cataloguing of species prolonged a somewhat pitiful existence. This describing, a work of great usefulness in the fathers of German botany, was now become by perpetual repetition a mechanical labour; all that was to be gained in this way had already been gained by de l'Obel and Bauhin. This sterility which followed upon the fruitful beginnings of the 16th century was general; neither in Germany nor Italy, neither in France nor England, did the botanists produce anything of importance. The representatives of the science did not count among the more highly gifted or among the thinkers of their time; and so content with the minor work of collecting and cataloguing plants, and with endeavouring to know all plants as far as possible by name, they lost whatever capacity they may have possessed for more difficult operations of the mind simply by not attempting them.

There was one man indeed in Germany who studied the vegetable kingdom in the first half of the 17th century in the spirit of Cesalpino before him, but who, like Cesalpino, found no honour among contemporary botanists. This man was the well-known philosopher Joachim Jung, who invented a comparative terminology for the parts of plants, and occupied himself with critical enquiries into the theory of the system, the naming of species and other subjects, embodying their results in a long array of aphorisms. Free from the genius-stifling burden which the knowledge of individual species had become, a man possessed of varied accomplishments and a well-trained mind, Jung was better qualified than the professed botanists to see what was wanted in botany and would advance it—a phenomenon more than once repeated in the history of the science. But his results remained unknown to all except his immediate pupils, till Ray admitted them into his great work on plants in 1693, and made them the foundation of his own theoretical botany. Enriched by Ray's good morphological remarks, Jung's terminology passed to Linnaeus, who adopted it as he adopted every thing useful that literature offered him, improving it here and there, but impairing its spirit by his dry systematising manner.

The labours of the botanists of Germany and the Netherlands during the 17th century, which culminated in Kaspar Bauhin, were not without important influence upon the development of systematic botany which began with Cesalpino. When Cesalpino wrote the work which forms an epoch in the science, he was perhaps unacquainted with the natural classification of de l'Obel (1576) at least there is nothing in his book which shows that he had seen it; it appears even as though he had made the discovery independently, that there is an actual connection of relationship among plants expressed in their organisation as a whole; it is at any rate certain that this fact assumed from the first an entirely different expression in his system from that which it received at the hands of de l'Obel and Bauhin, inasmuch as he was not guided by an indistinct feeling for resemblances, but believed that he could establish on predetermined grounds a system of marks, by which the objective relationship must be recognised. If Cesalpino was thus in advance of the German botanists, since he endeavoured to express with clearness and on principle that which they only felt indistinctly, he was at the same time treading a dangerous path, and one which led succeeding botanists astray till the time of Linnaeus,—the path which must always lead to artificial classifications, since the natural system can never be laid down upon a priori principles of division. Through this labyrinth, in which botanists down to Linnaeus wandered fruitlessly hither and thither, there remained one guide consistently pointing to the goal to be attained, namely, the feeling for natural affinity first vividly apprehended by the German botanists, and expressed by them to some extent in their classifications. And when at last Linnaeus and Bernard de Jussieu made the first feeble attempts at a natural arrangement, it was the same indistinct perception which asserted itself in them as in de l'Obel and Bauhin, and enabled them to see that the path hitherto trodden could only lead astray.

The period in the development of descriptive botany which begins with Cesalpino and reaches to Linnaeus may accordingly be perhaps best characterised by saying, that botanists sought to do justice to natural affinities by means of artificial classifications, till at length Linnaeus clearly perceived the contradiction involved in this method of proceeding. But inasmuch as Linnaeus left it to the future to work out the natural system, and arranged the plants which he described in a confessedly artificial manner, he so far marks rather the close of a previous condition of the science than the beginning of modern botany.

These introductory observations will have supplied the reader with the thread which will guide him through the following account of the more prominent points in the history of botanical science from Cesalpino to Linnaeus.

The often-quoted work of Andrea Cesalpino^[1], 'De plantis libri XVI,' appeared in Florence in the year 1583. If the value of the contemporary German botanists lies pre-eminently in the accumulation of descriptions of individual plants, and these, it is true, occupy fifteen books of Cesalpino's work, it is on the contrary the introduction in the first book, a discussion of the general theory of the subject, which in his case is of much the higher importance for the history of botany. This contains in thirty pages a full and connected exposition of the whole of theoretical botany, and though based on broad and general views is at the same time extremely rich in matter conveyed in a very concise form. The different branches into which the subject has since been divided are here united into an inseparable whole; morphology, anatomy, biology, physiology, systematic botany, terminology are so closely combined, that it is difficult to explain Cesalpino's views on any one more general question without at the same time touching on a variety of other matters. Three things more especially characterise this introductory book; first, a great number of new and delicate observations; secondly, the great importance which Cesalpino assigns to the organs of fructification as objects of morphological investigation; lastly, the way in which he philosophises in strictly Aristotelian fashion on the material thus gained from experience. If this treatment has produced a work beautiful in style and fascinating to the reader, if the whole subject is vivified by it while each separate fact gains a more general value, it is on the other hand apparent that the writer is often led astray by the well-known elements of the Aristotelian philosophy, which are opposed to the interests of scientific investigation. Mere creations of thought, the abstractions of the understanding, are treated as really existent substances, as active forces, under the name of principles; final causes appear side by side with efficient; the organs and functions of the organism exist either alicujus gratia or merely ob necessitatem; the whole account is controlled by a teleology, the influence of which is the more pernicious because the purposes assumed are supposed to be acknowledged and self-evident, plants and vegetation being conceived of as in every respect an imperfect imitation of the animal kingdom. It was moreover a necessary consequence of the treatment of his material adopted by Cesalpino, that his ignorance of the sexuality of plants and of the use of leaves as organs of nutrition led him to false and mischievous conclusions; this defect of knowledge would have been of less importance in a purely morphological consideration of plants, as we shall see presently in Jung; but with Cesalpino morphological and physiological considerations are so mixed up together, that a mistake in the one direction necessarily involved mistakes in the other.

These remarks on Cesalpino's method may be illustrated by some examples tending to show how closely he attaches himself to Aristotle, and how certain Aristotelian conceptions, the origin of which has not been sufficiently regarded, passed through him into later botanical speculation. We shall recur in the History of Physiology to Cesalpino's views on nutrition, and to his rejection of the doctrine of sexuality in plants.

'As the nature of plants,' so begins Cesalpino's book, 'possesses only that kind of soul by which they are nourished, grow, and produce their like, and they are therefore without sensation and motion in which the nature of animals consists, plants have accordingly need of a much smaller apparatus of organs than animals.' This idea reappears again and again in the history of botany, and the anatomists and physiologists of the 18th century were never weary of dilating on the simplicity of the structure of plants and of the functions of their organs. 'But since,' continues Cesalpino, 'the function of the nutritive soul consists in producing something like itself, and this like has its origin in the food for maintaining the life of the individual, or in the seed for continuing the species, perfect plants have at most two parts, which are however of the highest necessity; one part called the root by which they procure food; the other by which they bear the fruit, a kind of foetus for the continuation of the species; and this part is named the stem ('caulis') in smaller plants, the trunk ('caudex') in trees.'

This in the main correct conception of the upright stem as the seed-bearer of the plant was also long maintained in botany. We should observe also that the production of the seed is spoken of as merely another kind of nutrition, a notion which afterwards prevented Malpighi from correctly explaining the flower and fruit, and in a modified form led Kaspar Friedrich Wolff in 1759 to a very wrong conception of the nature of the sexual function. The next sentence in Cesalpino takes us into the heart of the Aristotelian misinterpretation of the plant, according to which the root answers to the mouth or stomach, and must therefore be regarded in idea as the upper part although it is the lower in position, and the plant would have to be compared with an animal set on its head, and the upper and lower parts determined accordingly: 'this part (the root) is the nobler ('superior') because it is prior in origin and sunk in the ground; for many plants live by the roots only after the stem with the ripe seeds has disappeared; the stem is of less importance ('inferior') although it rises above the ground; for the excreta, if there are any, are given off by means of this part; it is, therefore, with plants as with animals as regards the expressions 'pars superior' and 'inferior.' When indeed we take into consideration the mode of nourishment, we must define the upper and the lower in another way; since in plants and animals the food mounts upward (for that which nourishes is light because it is carried upwards by the heat), it was necessary to place the roots below and to make the stem go straight upwards, for in animals also the veins are rooted in the lower part of the stomach, while their main trunk ascends to the heart and the head.' Here, in genuine Aristotelian fashion, the facts are forced into a previously constructed scheme.

Cesalpino's discussion of the seat of the soul in plants is of special interest in connection with certain views of later botanists. 'Whether any one part in plants can be assigned as the seat of the soul, such as the heart in animals, is a matter for consideration—for since the soul is the active principle ('actus') of the organic body, it can neither be 'tota in toto' nor 'tota in singulis partibus,' but entirely in some one and chief part, from which life is distributed to the other dependent parts. If the function of the root is to draw food from the earth, and of the stem to bear the seeds, and the two cannot exchange functions, so that the root should bear seeds and the shoot penetrate into the earth, there must either be two souls different in kind and separate in place, the one residing in the root, the other in the shoot, or there must be only one, which supplies both with their peculiar capabilities. But that there are not two souls of different kinds and in a different part in each plant may be argued thus; we often see a root cut off from a plant send forth a shoot, and in like manner a branch cut off send a root into the ground, as though there were a soul indivisible in its kind present in both parts. But this would seem to show that the whole soul is present in both parts, and that it is wholly in the whole plant, if there were not this objection that, as we find in many cases, the capabilities are distributed between the two parts in such a way that the shoot, though buried in the ground, never sends out roots, for example in Pinus and Abies, in which plants also the roots that are cut off perish.' This, he thinks, proves that there is only one soul residing in root and stem, but that it is not present in all the parts; in a further discussion he seeks to discover the true seat of the soul. He points out an anatomical distinction between the shoot and the root; the root consists of the rind and an inner substance which in some cases is hard and woody, in others soft and fleshy. In the stem on the other hand there are three constituent parts; outside the rind, inside the pith, between the two a body which in trees is called the wood. This, on the whole, correct distinction between stem and root is followed by a thoroughly Aristotelian deduction.

'Since then in all creatures' (we must remark, that this is assuming a point which has yet to be proved in the case of the half of living creatures) 'nature conceals the principle of life in the innermost parts, as the entrails in animals, it is reasonable to conclude that the principle of life in plants is not in the rind, but is more deeply hidden in the inner parts, that is, in the pith, which is found in the stem and not in the root. That this was the opinion of the ancients we may gather from the name, for they called this part in plants the heart ('cor'), or brain ('cerebrum' or 'matrix'), because from this part in some degree the principle of foetification (the formation of the seed) is derived.' Here we see why the seed must, according to Cesalpino, have its origin in the pith; the idea was loyally repeated after him by Linnaeus, as we shall see hereafter. The argument, which is a long one, ends with the sentence: 'There are then two chief parts in plants, the root and the ascending part; therefore the most suitable spot for the heart of plants seems to be in the central part, namely, where the shoot joins on to the root. There appears also at this spot a certain substance differing both from the shoot and from the root, softer and more fleshy than either, for which reason it is usually called the cerebrum; it is edible in many plants while they are young.' We shall see below how important a part this seat of the soul of the plant, brought to light with such difficulty and with all appliances of scholasticism, is intended to play in Cesalpino's system, and how by this a priori path he was led to the use of the position of the embryo in the seed as his principle of division. It may be remarked here that the point of union between the root and the stem, in which Cesalpino placed the seat of the plant-soul, afterwards received the name of root-neck (collet); and though the Linnaean botanists of the 19th century were unaware of what Cesalpino had proved in the 16th, and did not even believe in a soul of plants, they still entertained a superstitious respect for this part of the plant, which is really no part at all; and this, it would seem, explains the fact, that an importance scarcely intelligible without reference to history was once attributed to it, especially by some French botanists. To return once more to Cesalpino's 'cor,' he is not much troubled by the circumstance that plants can be reproduced from severed portions; in true Aristotelian manner he says that although the principle of life is actually only one, yet potentially it is manifold. Ultimately a 'cor' is found in the axil of every leaf, by which the axillary shoot is united with the pith of the mother-shoot, and finally, in direct contradiction to the previous proof that the crown of the root is the seat of the plant-soul, it is distinctly affirmed in Chapter V that the soul of plants is in some sense diffused through all their parts.

The theoretical introduction to his excellent and copious remarks on the parts of fructification may supply another example of Cesalpino's peripatetic method: 'As the final cause ('finis') of plants consists in that propagation which is effected by the seed, while propagation from a shoot is of a more imperfect nature, in so far as plants do exist in a divided state, so the beauty of plants is best shown in the production of seed; for in the number of the parts, and the forms and varieties of the seed-vessels, the fructification shows a much greater amount of adornment than the unfolding of a shoot; this wonderful beauty proves the delight ('delitias') of generating nature in the bringing forth of seeds. Consequently as in animals the seed is an excretion of the most highly refined food-substance in the heart, by the vital warmth and spirit of which it is made fruitful, so also in plants it is necessary that the substance of the seeds should be secreted from the part in which the principle of the natural heat lies, and this part is the pith. For this reason, therefore, the pith of the seed (that is, the substance of the cotyledons and of the endosperm) springs from the moister and purer part of the food, while the husk which surrounds the seed for protection springs from the coarser part. It was unnecessary to separate a special fertilising substance from the rest of the matter in plants, as it is separated in animals which are thus distinguished as male and female.'

This last remark and some lengthy deductions which follow are intended to prove, after the example of Aristotle, the absence and indeed the impossibility of sexuality in plants, and accordingly Cesalpino goes on to compare the parts of the flower, which he knew better than his contemporaries, with the envelopes of the ova in the foetus of animals, which he regards as organs of protection. Calyx, corolla, stamens, and carpels are in his view only protecting envelopes of the young seed, as the leaves are only a means of protecting the young shoots. Moreover by the word flower ('flos') Cesalpino understands only those parts of the flower which do not directly belong to the rudiment of the fruit, namely, the calyx, the corolla, and the stamens. This must be borne in mind if we would understand his theory of fructification, and especially his doctrine of metamorphosis. We must also note, that by the expression pericarp he understands exclusively juicy edible fruit-envelopes, though at the same time pulpy seed-envelopes inside the fruit pass with him for pericarps. The parts of his flower are the 'folium,' which evidently means the corolla, but in certain cases includes also the calyx; the 'stamen,' which is our style; and the 'flocci,' our stamens. We see that Cesalpino uses the same word 'folium' without distinction for calyx, corolla, and ordinary leaves; just as he, and Malpighi a hundred years later, unhesitatingly regarded the cotyledons as metamorphosed leaves. In fact the envelopes of the flower and the cotyledons approach so nearly to the character of leaves, that every unprejudiced eye must instinctively perceive the resemblance; and if doubts arose on this point in post-Linnaean times, it was only a consequence of the Linnaean terminology, which neglected all comparative examination.

Moreover the doctrine of metamorphosis appears in a more consistent and necessary form in Cesalpino than in the botanists of the 19th century before Darwin; it flows more immediately from his philosophical views on the nature of plants, and appears therefore up to a certain point thoroughly intelligible. We may also consider as part of this doctrine in Cesalpino the view that the substance of the seed (embryo and endosperm) arises from the pith, because the pith contains the vital principle^[2], and as the pith in the shoot is surrounded for protection by the wood and the bark, so the substance of the seed is surrounded by the woody shell, and by the bark-like pericarp or by a fruit-envelope answering to a pericarp. According to Cesalpino therefore the substance of the seed with its capability of development springs from the pith, the woody shell from the wood, the pericarp from the rind of the shoot. The difficulty which arises from this interpretation, namely, that in accordance with his theory the parts of the flower also, the calyx, the corolla, and the stamens ought to spring from the outer tissues of the shoot, he puts aside with the remark (p. 19) that these parts of the flower are formed when the pericarp is still in a rudimentary state; that the pericarp is only fully developed after these parts have fallen off, and that they are so thin that there is nothing surprising in this view of the matter. We see in Cesalpino's doctrine of metamorphosis without doubt the theory of the flower afterwards adopted by Linnaeus, though in a somewhat different form. That Linnaeus himself regarded the theory ascribed to him on the nature of the flower as the opinion of Cesalpino also, is shown in his 'Classes Plantarum,' where in describing Cesalpino's system he says: 'He regarded the flower as the interior portions of the plant, which emerge from the bursting rind; the calyx as a thicker portion of the rind of the shoot; the corolla as an inner and thinner rind; the stamens as the interior fibres of the wood, and the pistil as the pith of the plant.' It may be observed however that this was not exactly what Cesalpino says; but it is nevertheless certain that Linnaeus' own view as given in these words was intended to reproduce that of Cesalpino; and if it does not do this exactly, there is no essential difference in principle between the two, Linnaeus' conception being perhaps a more logical statement of Cesalpino's meaning. Cesalpino's doctrine of metamorphosis appears plainly on another occasion also; he says, that we do not find envelopes, stamens, and styles in all flowers; the flowers change in some cases into another substance, as in the hazel, the edible chestnut, and all plants that bear catkins; the catkin is in place of a flower, and is a longish body arising from the seat of the fruit, and in this way fruits appear without flowers, for the styles ('stamina') form the longer axis of the catkin ('in amenti longitudinem transeunt'), while the leafy parts and the stamens are changed into its scales. All this shows that the notion of a metamorphosis, of which we find intimations as early as Theophrastus, was a familiar one to Cesalpino, and it fitted in perfectly with his Aristotelian philosophy, while Goethe's doctrine on the same subject is equally scholastic in its character, and therefore looks strange and foreign in modern science. It has already been observed that Cesalpino includes only the envelopes and stamens under the word flower, and distinguishes the rudiments of the fruit from them; therefore he says that there are plants which produce something in the shape of a catkin, without any hope of fruit, for they are entirely unfruitful; but those which bear fruit have no flowers, as Oxycedrus, Taxus, and among herbs Mercurialis, Urtica, Cannabis, in which the sterile plants are termed male, the fruitful female. Thus he distinguished the cases which we now call dioecious from the previously mentioned monoecious plants, among which he reckons the maize.

All this may serve to give the reader some idea, though a very incomplete one, of Cesalpino's theory; to do him justice, it would be necessary to give a full account of his very numerous, accurate, and often acute observations on the position of leaves, the formation of fruit, the distribution of seeds and their position in the fruit, of his comparative observations on the parts of the fruit in different plants, and above all of his very excellent description of plants with tendrils and climbing plants, of those that are armed with thorns and the like. Though there is naturally much that is erroneous and inexact in his accounts, yet we have before us in the chapters on these subjects the first beginning of a comparative morphology, which quite casts into the shade all that Aristotle and Theophrastus have said on the subject. But the most brilliant portions of his general botany are contained in the 12th, 13th, and 14th chapters, in which he gives the outlines of his views on the systematic arrangement of plants; to prepare the way for what is to follow, he shows first that it is better to give up the four old divisions of the vegetable kingdom, and to unite the shrubs with the trees and the undershrubs with the herbs. But how these genera are to be distinguished into species is, he says, hard to conceive, for the multitude of plants is almost innumerable; there must be many intermediate genera containing the 'ultimae species,' but few are as yet known. He then turns to the divisions founded on the relations of plants to men. Such groups, he says, as vegetables and kinds of grain, which are put together under the name of 'fruges' and kitchen-herbs ('olera'), are formed more from the use made of them than from the resemblance of form, which we require; and he shows this by good examples. The discerning of plants, he continues, is very difficult, for so long as the genera (larger groups) are undetermined, the species must necessarily be mixed up together^[3]; the difficulty arises from our uncertainty as to the rules by which we should determine the resemblances of the genera. While there are two chief parts in plants, the root and the shoot, we cannot, as it seems, determine the genera and species from the likeness or unlikeness either of the one or of the other; for if we make a genus of those plants which have a round root, as the turnip, Aristolochia, Cyclamen, Arum, we separate generically things which agree together in a high degree, as rape and radish which agree with the turnip, and the long Aristolochia which agrees with the round, while at the same time we unite things most dissimilar, for the Cyclamen and the turnip are in every other respect of a quite different nature; the same is the case with divisions which rest merely on differences in the leaves and flowers.

In pursuing these reflections, which have the conception of species chiefly in view, he arrives at the following proposition: That according to the law of nature like always produces like, and that which is of the same species with itself.

All that Cesalpino says on systematic arrangement shows that he was perfectly clear in his own mind with regard to the distinction between a division on subjective grounds, and one that respects the inner nature of plants themselves, and that he accepted the latter as the only true one. He says, for instance, in the next chapter: 'We seek out similarities and dissimilarities of form, in which the essence ('substantia') of plants consists, but not of things which are merely accidents of them ('quae accidunt ipsis').' Medicinal virtues and other useful qualities are, he says, just such accidents. Here we see the path opened, along which all scientific arrangement must proceed, if it is to exhibit real natural affinities; but at the same time there is a warning already of the error which beset systematic botany up to Darwin's time; if in the above sentence we substitute the word idea for that of substance, and the two expressions have much the same meaning in the Aristotelian and Platonic view of nature, we recognise the modern predarwinian doctrine, that species, genera, and families represent 'ideam quandam' and 'quoddam supranaturale.'

Pursuing his deductions, Cesalpino next shows, that the most important divisions, those of woody plants and herbs, must be maintained in accordance with the most important function of vegetation, that of drawing up the food through root and shoot; this division passed from the first and later on up to the time of Jung for an unassailable dogma, to which science simply had to conform. The second great function of plants is the producing their like, and this is effected by the parts of fructification. Though these parts are only found in the more perfect forms, yet the subdivisions ('posteriora genera') must be derived in both trees and herbs from likeness and unlikeness in the fructification. And thus Cesalpino was led, not by induction but by the deductive path of pure Aristotelian philosophy, to the conclusion, that the principles of a natural classification are to be drawn from the organs of fructification; for which conclusion Linnaeus declared him to be the first of systematists, while he thought de l'Obel and Kaspar Bauhin, who founded their arrangements on the habit only, scarcely deserving of notice.

It appears, then, that Cesalpino obtained the subdivisions which he founded on the organs of fructification from a priori views of the comparative value of organs, such as run through all Aristotelian philosophy. Of much interesting matter in the remainder of his introduction we must mention only that he makes the highest product of plants to be the fructification, of animals sense and movement, of man the intellect; and because the latter stands in need of no special bodily instruments, there is no specific difference in men, and therefore only one species of man.

In his 14th chapter he gives in broad outline a view of the system of plants which he founded on the fructification, beginning with the least perfect; no one who knows the botanical writers of the 17th and 18th centuries will be surprised to find that Cesalpino admits the doctrine of 'generatio spontanea' in the case of the lower plants, and in a somewhat crude form; this came from the teaching of Aristotle, and even a hundred years later Mariotte endeavoured to set up a plausible defence of spontaneous generation on physical grounds even in highly developed plants.

'Some plants,' says Cesalpino, 'have no seed; these are the most imperfect, and spring from decaying substances; they have only therefore to feed themselves and grow, and are unable to produce their like; they are a sort of intermediate existences between plants and inanimate nature. In this respect Fungi resemble Zoophytes, which are intermediate between plants and animals, and of the same nature are the Lemnae, Lichenes, and many plants which grow in the sea.'

Some on the other hand produce seed, which they form after their peculiar nature in an imperfect condition, as the mule among animals; these are of the same nature as mere monstrosities or diseased growths of other plants, and many occur in the class of grain and bear empty ears. Cesalpino is evidently speaking of the Ustilagineae, but he includes also the Orobancheae and Hypocystis, which instead of seed contain only a powder; and he adds that some of the more perfect plants are sterile, but they do not belong to this division, because the peculiarity is confined in their case to individuals.

Some plants bear a substance, a kind of wool, on the leaves, which to some extent answers to seed, because it serves to propagate the plant; such plants have neither stem, flower, nor true seed, and the Ferns are of this kind. We should notice this conclusion from Cesalpino's morphology, that plants without true seeds have also no stem; the view that ferns have no stems continued to be held by later botanists, though the original reason for it was gradually lost; and those who in the middle of the 19th century argued still in favour of this opinion, little suspected that they were endeavouring to establish a dogma of the Aristotelian philosophy. It is a similar case to that of the crown of the root mentioned above. But other plants, continues Cesalpino, produce true seeds; and he proceeds to treat of this division first, on account of its great extent as comprising all perfect plants. Three things, he says, contribute especially to the constitution of organs, the number, position, and shape of the parts; the play of nature in the composition of fruits varies according to their differences, and hence arise the different divisions of plants. He then shows how he proposes to apply these relations to the framing of his system, but his various points of view may be omitted here, as they can be better and more shortly gathered from the table below.

Other marks to be derived from roots, stems, and leaves, may be used, he says, for forming the smaller divisions. Lastly, some marks which contribute to the constitution neither of the whole plant nor of the fruit, such as colour, smell, taste, are mere accidents and are due to cultivation, place of growth, climate, and other causes.

The first of Cesalpino's sixteen books ends with this general view of his system. The remaining fifteen books contain about 600 pages of descriptions of individual plants arranged in fifteen classes; some of the descriptions are exceedingly minute; the trees come first, and are followed by the shrubs on account of their affinity ('ob affinitatem'). Two things have interfered with the recognition and acceptance of this system; the omission of a general view to precede the text, and its appearance in the traditional form of books and chapters, such as we find in de l'Ecluse, Dodoens, and Bauhin, instead of in classes and orders, though it is true that the headings and introductions to the several books contain the designations and general characteristics of the classes described in them. Linnaeus has done good service by giving in his 'Classes Plantarum' a general view of all the systems proposed before his time, among which he gives the first rank to that of Cesalpino; he has also pointed out the peculiar characteristics of each system, and has appended to the old names of the genera those with which he has himself made us familiar. This invaluable work, which is a key to the understanding of the efforts that were made in systematic botany from Cesalpino to Linnaeus himself, will often be referred to in later pages of this history; it will supply us here with a tabular view of Cesalpino's main divisions as precisely formulated by Linnaeus, which is well worth the space it will occupy, as presenting the first plan proposed for a systematic arrangement of the vegetable kingdom, with characters for each division. For the better understanding of these diagnoses it should be remembered that the 'cor' (heart) is the important point in the seed with Cesalpino, and that it is the place in the embryo where the radicle and the plumule unite, as has been said in a former page; Cesalpino himself says somewhat inexactly, the place from which the cotyledons spring.

The characters of the classes are given, for brevity's sake, in Latin.

Arboreae

(Arbores et frutices).

I. Corde ex apice seminis. Seminibus saepius solitariis (e.g. Quercus, Fagus, Ulmus, Tilia, Laurus, Prunus).

II. Corde e basi seminis, seminibus pluribus (e.g. Ficus, Cactus, Morus, Rosa, Vitis, Salix, Coniferae, etc.).

Herbaceae

(Suffrutices et herbae).

III. Solitariis seminibus. Semine in fructibus unico (e.g. Valeriana, Daphne, Urtica, Cyperus, Gramineae).

IV. Solitariis pericarpiis. Seminibus in fructu pluribus, quibus est conceptaculum carnosum, bacca aut pomum (e.g. Cucurbitaceae, Solaneae, Asparagus, Ruscus, Arum).

V. Solitariis vasculis. Seminibus in fructu pluribus quibus est conceptaculum e siccâ materiâ (e.g. various Leguminosae, Caryophylleae, Gentianeae, etc.).

VI. Binis seminibus. Semina sub singulo flosculo invicem conjuncta, ut unicum videantur ante maturitatem; cor in parte superiore, quâ flos insidet. Flores in umbellâ (Umbelliferae).

VII. Binis conceptaculis (e.g. Mercurialis, Poterium, Galium, Orobanche, Hyoscyamus, Nicotiana, Cruciferae).

VIII. Triplici principio (ovary) non bulbosae. Semina trifariam distributa; corde infra sito, radix non bulbosa (e.g. Thalictrum, Euphorbia, Convolvulus, Viola).

IX. Triplici principio bulbosae. Semina trifariam distributa; corde infra sito, radix bulbosa (Large-flowered Monocotyledons).

X. Quaternis seminibus. Semina quatuor nuda in communi sede (Boragineae and Labiatae).

XI. Pluribus seminibus, anthemides. Semina nuda plurima, cor seminis interius vergens; flos communis distributus per partes in apicibus singuli seminis (Compositae only).

XII. Pluribus seminibus, cichoraceae aut acanaceae. Semina nuda plurima, cor seminis inferius vergens, flos communis distributus per partes in apicibus singuli seminis (Compositae, Eryngium, and Scabiosa).

XIII. Pluribus seminibus, flore communi. Semina solitaria plurima, corde interius; flos communis, non distributus, inferius circa fructum (e.g. Ranunculus, Alisma, Sanicula, Geranium, Linum).

XIV. Pluribus folliculis. Semina plura in singulo folliculo (e.g. Oxalis, Gossypium, Aristolochia, Capparis, Nymphaea, Veratrum, etc.).

XV. Flore fructuque carentes (Filices, Equiseta, Musci including Corals, Fungi).

The examples appended by me to the diagnoses show that with the exception of the sixth, tenth, and fifteenth classes, no one perfectly represents a natural group of the vegetable kingdom. Most of them are a collection of heterogeneous objects, and the distinction of Dicotyledons and Monocotyledons, almost perfectly carried out by de l'Obel and Bauhin, is to a great extent effaced; the ninth class certainly contains only Monocotyledons, but not all of them. This result of great efforts on the part of a mind so well trained as Cesalpino's is highly unsatisfactory. Not a single new group founded on natural affinities is established, which does not appear already in the herbals of Germany and the Netherlands. It is characteristic of the natural system to reveal itself to a certain extent more readily to instinctive perception than to the critical understanding. We have seen that Cesalpino intended as far as possible to give expression in his system to natural affinities, and the final result was a series of highly unnatural groups, almost every one of which is a collection of the most heterogeneous forms. The cause of this apparently so remarkable fact is this, that he believed that he could establish on predetermined grounds the marks which indicate natural affinities. The uninterrupted labour of nearly 300 years, starting again and again from the same principle or practically under its influence, has given us inductive proof that the path taken by Cesalpino is the wrong one. And if, while this path was pursued even into the middle of the 18th century, we see natural groups emerge with increasing distinctness, it is because the botanist, though on the wrong track, was still continually gaining better acquaintance with the ground over which he was wandering, and attained at length to an anticipation of the truer way.

Joachim Jung^[4] was born in Lübeck in the year 1587, and died after an eventful life in 1657. He was a contemporary of Kepler, Galileo, Vesal, Bacon, Gassendi, and Descartes. After having been already a professor in Giessen, he applied himself to the study of medicine in Rostock, was in Padua in 1618 and 1619, and there, as we may confidently believe, became acquainted with the botanical doctrines of Cesalpino, who had died fifteen years before. Returning to Germany, he held various professorships during the succeeding ten years in Lübeck and Helmstädt, and became Rector of the Johanneum in Hamburg in 1629. He occupied himself with the philosophy of the day, in which he appeared as an opponent of scholasticism and of Aristotle, and also with various branches of science, mathematics, physics, mineralogy, zoology, and botany. In all these subjects he displayed high powers as a student and a teacher, and especially as a critical observer; in botany at least he was a successful investigator. He was the first in Germany, as Cesalpino had been in Italy, who combined a philosophically educated intellect with exact observation of plants.

His pupils were at first the only persons who profited by his botanical studies, for with his many occupations and a perpetual desire to make his investigations more and more complete he himself published nothing. In 1662 his pupil Martin Fogel printed the 'Doxoscopiae Physicae Minores,' a work of enormous compass left in manuscript at the master's death, and another pupil, Johann Vagetius, the 'Isagoge Phytoscopica,' in 1678. Ray however tells us that a copy of notes on botanical subjects had already reached England in 1660. The 'Doxoscopiae' contains a great number of detached remarks on single plants and on their distinguishing marks, and propositions concerning the methods and principles of botanical research, all in the form of aphorisms which he had from time to time committed to paper. The number and contents of these aphorisms show the earnest attention which he bestowed on the determination of species; he is displeased that so many botanists devote more time and labour to the discovery of new plants, than to referring them carefully and logically to their true genera by means of their specific differences. He was the first who objected to the traditional division of plants into trees and herbs, as not founded on their true nature. But how firmly this old dogma was established is well shown by the fact, that Ray at the end of the century still retained this division, though he founded his botanical theories on the 'Isagoge' of Jung. Jung was in advance of Cesalpino and his own contemporaries in repeatedly expressing his doubt of the existence of spontaneous generation.

The 'Isagoge Phytoscopica,' a system of theoretical botany, very concisely written and in the form of propositions arranged in strict logical sequence, was a more important work and had more lasting effects upon the history of botany. We must look more closely into the contents of this volume, because it contains the foundation of the terminology of the parts of plants subsequently established by Linnaeus. Since the matter of the 'Isagoge' is produced in Ray's 'Historia Plantarum' in italics, with special mention of the source from which it is derived, it cannot be doubted that Linnaeus had made acquaintance with the teaching of Jung as a young man, in any case before 1738. It is as important as a matter of history to know that Linnaeus' terminology is founded on Jung, as it is to learn that his most general philosophical propositions on botanical subjects are to be traced to Cesalpino. It will moreover be fully shown in the account of the doctrine of sexuality that his knowledge of that subject was derived from Rudolf Jacob Camerarius. The first chapter of the 'Isagoge' discusses the distinction between plants and animals. A plant is, according to Jung, a living but not a sentient body; or it is a body attached to a fixed spot or a fixed substratum, from which it can obtain immediate nourishment, grow and propagate itself. A plant feeds when it transforms the nourishment which it takes up into the substance of its parts, in order to replace what has been dissipated by its natural heat and interior fire. A plant grows when it adds more substance than has been dissipated, and thus becomes larger and forms new parts. The growth of plants is distinguished from that of animals by the circumstance that their parts are not all growing at the same time, for leaves and shoots cease to grow as soon as they arrive at maturity; but then new leaves, shoots, and flowers are produced. A plant is said to propagate itself when it produces another specifically like itself; this is the idea in its broader acceptation. We see that here, as in Cesalpino, the idea of the species is connected with that of propagation. The second chapter, headed 'Plantae Partitio,' treats of the most important morphological relations in the external differentiation of plants; here Jung adheres essentially to Cesalpino's view, that the whole body in all plants, except the lowest forms, is composed of two chief parts, the root as the organ which takes up the food, and the stem above the ground which bears the fructification. Jung, too, draws attention to the meeting-point of the two parts, Cesalpino's 'cor,' but under the name of 'fundus plantae.'

The upper part, or a portion of the plant, is either a stem, a leaf, a flower, a fruit, or a structure of secondary importance, such as hairs and thorns. His definition of the stalk and the leaf is noteworthy; the stalk, he says, is that upper part which stretches upwards in such a manner, that a back and front, a right and left side, are not distinguished in it. A leaf is that which is extended from its point of origin in height, or in length and breadth, in such a manner, that the bounding surfaces of the third dimension are different from one another, and therefore the outer and inner surfaces of the leaf are differently organised. The inner side of the leaf, which is also called the upper, is that which looks towards the stem, and is therefore concave or less convex than the other side. One conclusion he draws, which is a striking one for that time, that the compound leaf is taken for a branch by inexperienced or negligent observers, but that it may easily be determined by having an inner and an outer surface, like the simple leaf, and by falling off as a whole in autumn. He calls a plant 'difformiter foliata,' whose lower leaves are strikingly different from the upper, an idea which Goethe, in the fragment in Guhrauer, seems to have altogether misunderstood.

In connection with these general definitions, the different forms of the stem and of the ramification, and the varieties of leaves are pointed out and supplied with distinctive names, which are for the most part still in use. The fourth chapter treats of the division of the stem into internodes; if the stem or branch, says Jung, is regarded as a prismatic body, the articulations, that is, the spots where a branch or a leaf-stalk arises, are to be conceived of as cross-sections parallel to the base of the prism. These spots when they are protuberant are called knees or nodes, and that which lies between such spots is an internode.

It is not possible to quote all the many excellent details which follow these definitions; but some notice must be taken of Jung's theory of the flower, which he gives at some length from the 13th to the 27th chapters. It suffers, as in Cesalpino, from his entire ignorance of the difference of sexes in plants, which is sufficient to render any satisfactory definition of the idea of a flower impossible. Like Cesalpino too he distinguishes the pistil from the flower, instead of making it a part of the flower. He regards the flower as a more delicate part of the plant, distinguished by colour or form, or by both, and connected with the young pistil. Like all botanists up to the end of the 18th century, he follows Cesalpino in including under the term fruit both the dry indehiscent fruits which were supposed to be naked seeds, and any seed-vessel. He differs from him in calling the stamens 'stamina,' and the style 'stilus,' but like Cesalpino he uses the word 'folium' for the corolla. He calls a flower perfect only when it has all these three parts. He afterwards describes the relations of form and number in the parts of the flower, and among other things he enunciates the first correct view of the nature of the capitulum in the Compositae, which Cesalpino quite misunderstood; and he examined inflorescences and superior and inferior flowers, which Cesalpino had already distinguished, with more care than they had previously received. In his theory of the seed he follows Cesalpino, and adds nothing to him.

There is nothing which more essentially distinguishes the theoretical botany of Jung, and marks the advance which he made upon Cesalpino's views, than the way in which he discusses morphology in as entire independence as was possible of all physiological questions, and therefore abstains from ideological explanations. His eye is fixed on relations of form only, while his mode of treating them is essentially comparative, and embraces the whole of the vegetable kingdom that was known to him. Jung certainly learnt much from Cesalpino; but in rejecting at least the grosser aberrations of the Aristotelian philosophy and of scholasticism, he freed himself from the prepossessions of his master, and succeeded in arriving at more correct conceptions of the morphology of plants. That his mathematical gifts assisted him in this respect is easy to be gathered from his definitions as given above, which bring into relief the symmetry apparent in the forms of stems and leaves. No more profound or apt definitions were supplied till Schleiden and Nägeli introduced the history of development into the study of morphology.

While Cesalpino, Kaspar Bauhin, and Jung stand as solitary forms each in his own generation, the last thirty years of the 17th century are marked by the stirring activity of a number of contemporary botanists. While during this period physics were making rapid advances in the hands of Newton, philosophy in those of Locke and Leibnitz, and the anatomy and physiology of plants by the labours of Malpighi and Grew, systematic botany was also being developed, though by no means to the same extent or with equally profound results, by Morison, Ray, Bachmann (Rivinus), and Tournefort. The works of these men and of their less gifted adherents, following rapidly upon or partly synchronous with each other, led to an exchange of opinions and sometimes to polemical discussion, such as had not before arisen on botanical subjects; this abundance of literature, with the increased animation of its style, excited a more permanent interest, which spread beyond the narrow circle of the professional adepts. The systematists abovenamed endeavoured to perfect the morphology and the terminology of the parts of plants, and they found ready to their hands in the works of their predecessors a considerable store of observations and ideas, upon which they set themselves to work. A very great number of descriptions of individual plants had been accumulated since the time of Fuchs and Bock, and the fact of natural affinity had been recognised in the 'Pinax' of Kaspar Bauhin as the foundation of a natural system; Cesalpino had pointed to the organs of fructification as the most important for such a system, and Jung had supplied the first steps to a comparative morphology in place of a mere explanation of names. The botanists of the last thirty years of the 17th century could not fail to perceive that the series of affinities as arranged by de l'Obel and Bauhin could not be defined by predetermined marks in the way pursued by Cesalpino, nor fashioned in this way into a well-articulated system. Nevertheless they held fast in principle to Cesalpino's mode of proceeding, though they endeavoured to amend it by obtaining their grounds of division, not as he had done, chiefly from the organisation of the seed and fruit, but from other parts of the flower; variations in the corolla, the calyx, and the general habit were employed to found systems, which were intended to exhibit natural affinities. And while the true means were thus missed, the end itself was not clearly and decidedly adhered to; a system was desired for the purpose of facilitating the acquisition of a knowledge of the greatest possible number of individual forms; the weight of the burden caused by the foolish demand that every botanist should know all described plants, was continually increasing, and naturally led to seeking some alleviation in systematic arrangement. Excessive devotion to the describing of plants stood in the way of such a profound study of the principles of systematic botany as might have led to enduring results, and even destroyed the very capacity for those difficult intellectual operations, which were absolutely necessary to build up a truly natural system on scientific foundations; the wood could not be seen for the trees. Above all the morphology founded by Jung, though acknowledged and employed, was not sufficiently developed by the labours of others to form the foundation of the system in its grander features,―a reproach which must be made against the systematists of the succeeding hundred years with few exceptions. How could the botanists of the 17th century succeed in acquiring a true conception of the larger groups indicated by natural affinity, when they still held to the old division into trees and herbs, which Jung had already set aside and which is opposed to all consistent morphology, and when they paid so little attention to the structure of the seed and the fruit, that they commonly treated dry indehiscent fruits as naked seeds, and were guilty of other and similar mistakes? But if nothing new and good in principle found its way into systematic botany, much service was rendered to it in matters of detail. The working out of various systems helped to show what marks are not admissible in fixing the limits of the natural groups; the contradiction between the method and aim of the systematists became in this empirical way continually more apparent, till at length Linnaeus was able to recognise it distinctly; and this was beyond doubt a great gain.

To attempt to give an account of all the systematists of England, France, Italy, Germany, and the Netherlands during this period would serve only to obscure the subject; all that is historically important will be brought out more clearly by mentioning those only who have really enriched systematic botany. Whoever wishes for a more complete knowledge of all the systems which made their appearance before Linnaeus will find a masterly account of them in his 'Classes Plantarum,' and another worth consulting in Michel Adanson's 'Histoire de la Botanique' (Paris, 1864). It is sufficient for our present purpose to consider more particularly the labours of the four men whose names have recently been mentioned.

Robert Morison^[5], who was born in Aberdeen in 1620 and died in London in 1683, was the first after Cesalpino and Bauhin who devoted himself to systematic botany, that is, to founding and perfecting the classification of plants. He was reproached by his contemporaries and successors with having borrowed without acknowledgment from Cesalpino; this was an exaggeration. Morison commenced his efforts as a systematist with a careful examination of Kaspar Bauhin's 'Pinax'; there he obtained his conceptions of natural relationship in plants; and if he afterwards founded his own system more peculiarly on the forms of the fruit, it was in a very different way from that adopted by Cesalpino. Linnaeus answers the reproach above-mentioned by the pertinent remark, that Morison departs as far from Cesalpino in this point as he is inferior to him in the purity of his method. In the year 1669 appeared a work with the characteristic title, 'Hallucinationes Kaspari Bauhini in Pinace turn in digerendis quam denominandis plantis,' which Haller justly calls an 'invidiosum opus'; for as there are writers at all times who ungratefully accept all that is good and weighty in their predecessors as self-evident, while they point with malicious pleasure to every little mistake which the originator of a great idea may commit, so Morison has no word of recognition for the great and obvious merits of the 'Pinax,' though such a recognition was specially due from one whose design was to point out the numerous mistakes in that work on the subject of affinities. Kurt Sprengel in his 'Geschichte,' ii. p. 30, also suspects with reason that Jung's manuscript, which was communicated by Hartlieb to Ray in 1661, was not unknown to Morison, and in this paper he might certainly have found much that suited his purposes. Sprengel says well, that the 'Hallucinationes' are a well-grounded criticism of the arrangement of plants, which the Bauhins had chosen; that the writer goes through the 'Pinax' page by page, and shows what plants occupy a false position, and that it is certain that Morison laid the first foundation of a better arrangement and a more correct discrimination of genera and species.

His 'Plantarum umbelliferarum distributio nova,' Oxford, 1672, shows considerable advance; it is the first monograph which was intended to carry out systematic principles strictly within the limits of a single large family. The very complex arrangement is founded exclusively on the external form of the fruit, which he naturally terms the seed. It is the first work in which the system is no longer veiled by the old arrangement in books and chapters, perspicuity being provided for by typographical management, an improvement which de l'Obel, it is true, made a feeble attempt to introduce a hundred years before. Morison also endeavours to give a clear idea of the systematic relations within the family by the aid of linear arrangement, to some extent the first hint of what we now call a genealogical tree, and a proof at any rate of the lively conception which he had formed of affinity, not drawn indeed only 'ex libro naturae,' as the title of his book states, but in principle from Bauhin. Morison's inability to appreciate the merits of his predecessors, and to believe that when he made a step in advance the way had ever been trodden before, may be seen in this work also. One of its merits is, that it contains for the first time careful representations of separate parts of plants, executed in copper plate^[6]. In 1680 appeared the first volumes of his 'Historia plantarum universalis Oxoniensis,' the third portion of which was published after his death by Bobart in 1699, a collection of most of the plants then known and a large number of new ones with descriptions; the systematic arrangement in this work is to be seen in Linnaeus' 'Classes Plantarum.' If Morison in his criticism of Bauhin displayed considerable acuteness within narrow circles of affinity, his universal system on the contrary shows extremely small feeling for affinities on the large scale; the most different forms are brought together even in the smaller divisions; the last class of his Bacciferae, for example, contains genera like Solanum, Paris, Podophyllum, Sambucus, Convallaria, Cyclamen, a result which is the more surprising as Morison does not, like Cesalpino, confine himself to single fixed marks, but has regard also to the habit. On the whole his arrangement as an expression of natural affinities must be ranked after those of de l'Obel and Bauhin.

Morison's merit lay in truth less in the quality of what he did, than in the fact that he was the first to renew the cultivation of systematic botany on a comprehensive scale. The number of his adherents was always small; in Germany Paul Ammann, Professor in Leipsic, adopted Morison's views in his 'Character Plantarum Naturalis' (1685), and Paul Hermann, Professor in Leyden from 1679 to 1695, after collecting plants in Ceylon for eight years, proposed a system founded on that of Morison, but which can scarcely be called an improvement upon it.

In contrast to Morison, John Ray^[7] (1628 to 1705) not only knew how to adopt all that was good and true in the works of his predecessors, and to criticise and complete them from his own observations, but could also joyfully acknowledge the services of others, and combine their results and his own into a harmonious whole. He wrote many botanical works; but none display his character as a man and a naturalist better than his comprehensive 'Historia Plantarum,' published in three large folio volumes without plates in the period from 1686 to 1704. This work contains a series of descriptions of all plants then known; but the first volume commences with a general account of the science in fifty-eight pages, which, printed in ordinary size, would itself make a small volume, and which treats of the whole of theoretic botany in the style of a modern text-book. If morphology, anatomy, and physiology, in which latter subject he relies on the authority of Malpighi and Grew, are not kept strictly apart in his exposition, yet it is easy to separate the morphological part, and his theory of systematic botany is in fact given separately. Jung's definitions of the subject-matter of each of the chapters on morphology are first given, and Ray then adds his own remarks, in which he criticises, expands, and supplements those of his predecessor. Omitting all that is not his own, and the anatomical and physiological portions, we will describe some of the more important results of his studies on system. First and foremost Ray adopted the idea which Grew had conceived, but in a very clumsy form, that difference of sex prevails in the vegetable kingdom, and hence the flower had a different meaning and importance for him from what it had had for his predecessors, though his views on the subject were still indistinct. Ray perceived more clearly than Cesalpino that many seeds contain not only an embryo but also a substance, which he calls 'pulpa' or 'medulla,' and which is now known as the endosperm, and that the embryo has not always two cotyledons, but sometimes only one or none; and though he was not quite clear as regards the distinction, which we now express by the words docotyledonous and monocotyledonous embryo, yet he may claim the great merit of having founded the natural system in part upon this difference in the formation of the embryo. He displays more conspicuously than any systematist before Jussieu the power of perceiving the larger groups of relationship in the vegetable kingdom, and of defining them by certain marks; these marks moreover he determines not on a priori grounds, but from acknowledged affinities; but it is only in the great divisions of his system that he is thus true to the right course; in the details he commits many and grievous offences against his own method, as we shall see below when we come to an enumeration of his classes. Modern writers have often attributed to Ray the merit of having first taught the transmutation of species, and of being thus one of the founders of the theory of descent. Let us see how much truth there is in this assertion. Though plants, says Ray, which spring from the same seed and produce their species again through seed, belong to the same species, yet cases may occur in which the specific character is not perpetual and infallible. Seeds may sometimes degenerate and produce plants specifically distinct from the mother-plant, though this may not often happen, and so there would be a transmutation of species, as experience teaches. It is true that he considered the statements of various writers, that Triticum may change into Lolium, Sisymbrium into Mentha, Zea into Triticum, etc., to be very doubtful, yet there were, he thought, other cases which were well ascertained; it was in evidence in a court of law that a gardener in London had sold cauliflower seed which had produced only common cabbage. It is to be observed, he says, that such transmutations only occur between nearly allied species and such as belong to the same genus, and some perhaps would not allow that such plants are specifically distinct. These words, especially when judged by Ray's general views, appear only to express the opinion that certain inconsiderable variations are possible within a narrow circle of affinity, especially in cultivated plants. Ray does not speak of the appearance of new forms, but says that a known form changes into another already existing and known form, which is the reverse of that which the theory of descent requires.

In his development of the principles of his system, among other errors we encounter one that leads to very important consequences in his application of the dictum, 'natura non facit saltus,' which he interprets as though all affinities must present themselves in a series that would be represented by a straight line, an error which has misled systematists even in recent times, and was first recognised as an error by Pyrame de Candolle. Ray overlooked the fact that the dictum holds good even when the affinities arrange themselves in the form of branching series, that is, after the manner of a genealogical tree. Much more sound is his remark, that the framing of the true system had previously been impossible, because the differences and agreements of forms were not sufficiently known; and another saying of his, that nature refuses to be forced into the fetters of a precise system, shows the dawn of the knowledge which afterwards led in Linnaeus to a strict separation of the natural and artificial systems.

It excites no small astonishment after all Ray's judicious and clear-sighted utterances on the nature and method of the natural system to find him adopting the division into woody plants and herbs; nor is the matter improved by his making the distinctive mark of trees and shrubs to be the forming of buds, that is, distinct winter buds, which is a mistake into the bargain. Yet we feel ourselves in some degree compensated for this serious error by his dividing trees and herbs into those with a two-leaved and those with a one-leaved or leafless embryo, in modern language into Dicotyledons and Monocotyledons. Ray's system is undoubtedly the one which in the time preceding Linnaeus does most justice to natural affinities. The following synopsis of his Classes will serve to show the progress made since Cesalpino. The names in brackets are the Linnaean names for some of the genera in particular classes.

A. Plantae gemmis carentes (herbae).

(a) Imperfectae.

I. Plantae submarinae (chiefly Polypes, Fucus).

II. Fungi.

III. Musci (Confervae, Mosses, Lycopods).

IV. Capillares (Ferns, Lemna, Equisetum).

(b) Perfectae.

Dicotyledones (binis cotyledonibus).

V. Apetalae.

VI. Planipetalae lactescentes.

VII. Discoideae semine papposo.

VIII. Corymbiferae.

IX. Capitalae (vi-ix are Compositae).

X. Semine nudo solitario (Valerianeae, Mirabilis, Thesium, etc.).

XI. Umbelliferae.

XII. Stellatae.

XIII. Asperifoliae.

XIV. Verticillatae (Labiatae).

XV. Semine nudo polyspermo (Ranunculus, Rosa, Alisma !).

XVI. Pomiferae (Cucurbitaceae).

XVII. Bacciferae (Rubus, Smilax, Bryonia, Solanum, Menyanthes).

XVIII. Multisiliquae (Sedum, Helleboreae, Butomus, Asclepias).

XIX. Vasculiferae monopetalae (various).

XX. Vasculiferae dipetalae (various).

XXI. Tetrapetalae siliquosae (Cruciferae, Ruta, Monotropa).

XXII. Leguminosae.

XXIII. Pentapetalae Vasculiferae enangiospermae (various).

Monocotyledones (singulis aut nullis cotyledonibus).

XXIV. Graminifoliae floriferae vasculo tricapsulari (Liliaceae, Orchideae, Zingiberaceae).

XXV. Stamineae (Grasses).:XXVI. Anomalae incertae sedis.

B. Plantae gemmiferae (arbores).

(a) Monocotyledones.

XXVII. Arbores arundinaceae (Palms, Dracaena).

(b) Dicotyledones.

XXVIII. Arbores fructu a flore remoto seu apetalae (Coniferae and various others).

XXIX. Arbores fructu umbilicato (various).

XXX. Arbores fructu non umbilicato (various).

XXXI. Arbores fructu sicco (various).

XXXII. Arbores siliquosae (woody Papilionaceae).

XXXIII. Arbores anomalae (Ficus).

Of these classes only the Fungi, Capillares, Stellatae, Labiatae, Pomiferae, Tetrapetalae, Siliquosae, Leguminosae, Floriferae, and Stamineae can pass as wholly or approximately natural groups, and there are mistakes even in these; moreover the majority of them had long been recognised. The examples annexed in brackets show how open the others are to objection. If it must be allowed on the one side that Ray, like Jung, doubts whether the Cryptogams are propagated without seeds, it is on the other side obvious that he makes as little objection as his predecessors, contemporaries, and immediate successors to the idea that Polypes and Sponges are vegetables. But worse than this is the extremely faulty subordination and coordination in his system; while the class of Mosses contains the Confervae, Lichens, Liverworts, Mosses, and Clubmosses, and therefore objects as distinct from one another as Infusoria, Worms, Crabs, and Mollusks, we find on the contrary the one family of Compositae split up into four classes founded on quite petty and unimportant differences. Finally, if Ray recognised the general importance to the system of the leaf-formation in the embryo, he was still far from strictly separating all Monocotyledons and Dicotyledons.

Ray's chief merit is that he to some extent recognised natural affinities in their broader features; the systematic separation of the smaller groups was but little advanced by him. He too, like Morison, found two adherents in Germany in the persons of Christopher Knaut (1638-1694), who published a flora of Halle in 1687 arranged after Ray's method, and Christian Schellhammer (1649-1716), professor at Helmstadt and afterwards at Jena.

Augustus Quirinus Bachmann (Rivinus)^[8] (1652-1725) was for Germany what Morison and Ray were for England, and Tournefort for France. From the year 1691 he was Professor of botany, physiology, materia medica, and chemistry in Leipsic; he applied himself with such ardour to astronomy that he injured his eyesight by observing spots in the sun. With such a variety of occupations it is not surprising that his special knowledge of plants was inconsiderable when compared with that of the three just named; but he was better able than they to appreciate the principles of morphology laid down by Jung, and to use them for deciding questions of systematic botany. He did most service by his severe strictures on the more prominent errors which botanists up to his time had persisted in, his own positive contributions, at least as far as the recognition of affinities is concerned, being inconsiderable. His 'Introductio universalis in rem herbariam,' which appeared in 1690, and contains 39 pages of the largest size, is the most interesting for us; in it he declines the great quantity of unnecessary work with which botanists occupied themselves, and declares the scientific study of plants to be the only end and aim of botany. He first treats of naming, and lays down with respect to generic and specific names the principles which Linnaeus afterwards consistently applied, whereas Bachmann himself did not follow his own precepts, but injured his reputation as a botanist by a tasteless nomenclature. Nevertheless he declared distinctly that the best plan is to designate each plant by two words, one of which should be the name of the genus, the other that of the species, and he ingeniously pointed out the great convenience of this binary nomenclature in dealing with medicinal plants, and in the writing of prescriptions. He refused to regard cultivated varieties as species, though Tournefort and others continued to do so.

In his system he rejected the division into trees, shrubs, and herbs, showing by good examples that there is no real distinction of the kind in nature. From many of his remarks in his critical dissertations we might infer that he possessed a very fine feeling for natural relationship, but at the same time expressions occur which seem to show that he did not at all appreciate its importance in the system; we notice this in Tournefort also. Because flowers come before the fruit he jumps with curious logic to the conclusion that the main divisions in the system should be derived from the flower, and in following this rule he makes use of exactly that mark in the corolla which has the least value for classification, namely, regularity or irregularity of form. It is strange, moreover, that Bachmann, who spent a considerable fortune on the production of copper-plate figures of plants without any special object, though he founded his system on the form of the flower, should yet have devoted only a superficial study to its construction; his account of it is very inferior to that of any one before or since his time. His classification thus founded cannot be said to be an advance in systematic botany; nevertheless, he had no lack of adherents, and among them in Germany, Heucher, Knaut, Ruppius, Hebenstreit, and Ludwig; in England, Hill and others, who made alterations here and there in his system, but any real development of it was from its nature an impossibility; he endeavoured to defend it against the assaults of Ray and Dillen; Rudbeck also declared against him.

Joseph Pitton De Tournefort^[9] (1656–1708) founded his system also on the form of the corolla, but his views are to some extent opposed to those of Bachmann. While the latter was pre-eminently critical and deficient in knowledge of species, Tournefort was more inclined to dogmatise, and atoned in the eyes of his contemporaries for want of morphological insight by his extensive acquaintance with individual plants. He is commonly regarded as the founder of genera in the vegetable kingdom; but it has been already shown that the conceptions of genera and species had been framed as early as the 16th century from the describing of plants, and that Kaspar Bauhin also, in naming his plants, consistently distinguished genera and species; moreover Bachmann in 1690 had supported the claims of the binary nomenclature as the most suitable for the designation of plants, though he did not himself adopt it; Tournefort did adopt it, but in an entirely different way from that of Bauhin. Bauhin gave only the name of the genus, and supplied the species with characters; Tournefort, on the other hand, provided his genera with names and characters, and added the species and varieties without special description. Tournefort therefore was not the first who established genera; he merely transferred the centre of gravity, so to speak, in descriptive botany to the definition of the genera; but in doing so he committed the great fault of treating specific differences within the genus as a matter of secondary importance. How little depth there was in his botanical ideas may be seen not only from his very poor theory of the flower, the imperfections in which, as in the case of Bachmann, are the more remarkable, since he founded his system on the outward form of the flower, but still more from the expression which he uses at the end of his history of botany, a work otherwise of considerable merit; he says there that the science of botany has been so far advanced since the age of Hippocrates, that hardly anything is still wanting except an exact establishing of genera. His general propositions on the subject of systematic botany, together with much that is good, but which is generally not new and is better expressed in the works of Morison, Ray, and Bachmann, contain strange misconceptions; for instance, he classes plants which have no flower and fruit with those in which these parts are to be seen only with the microscope, that is, the smallness of the organs is equivalent to their absence. It may seem strange that his theory of the flower should be so imperfect, when the excellent investigations of Malpighi and Grew into the structure of flowers, fruit, and seed were already before the world (1700), and Rudolph Jacob Camerarius had made known his discovery of sexuality in the vegetable kingdom. This doctrine, however, Tournefort expressly refused to admit. But the reproach of neglecting the labours of Malpighi and Grew is equally applicable to Bachmann and the systematists up to A. L. de Jussieu; we have here only the first example of the fact since so often confirmed, that professed systematists shrank with a certain timidity from the results of more delicate morphological research, and rested their classifications as far as possible on obvious external features in plants, a proceeding which more than anything else delayed the construction of the natural system.

Tournefort's system is thoroughly artificial, if possible, more artificial than that of Bachmann, and certainly inferior to Ray's. If we meet with single groups that are really natural, it is simply because in some families the genera so agree together in all their marks, that they necessarily remain united, whatever mark we select for the systematic purpose. We do not find in Tournefort the distinction between Phanerogams and Cryptogams already established by Ray, nor the division of woody plants and herbs into Monocotyledons and Dicotyledons; if his chief work, to which we confine ourselves here, the 'Institutiones rei herbariae,' did not bear the date of 1700, we might conclude that it was written before the 'Historia Plantarum' of Ray, and the chief work of Bachmann. Yet it has one merit of a purely formal kind; it is pervaded by a rigorous spirit of system; every class is divided into sections, these into genera, and these again into species; figures of the leaves and of the parts of the flower, very beautifully engraved on copper-plate and filling a whole volume, are perspicuously arranged; the whole work therefore is easy to consult and understand. But to form an idea of the confusion as regards natural affinities that reigns in his system, we need only examine the first three sections of his first class, when we shall find Atropa and Mandragora together in the first section, Polygonatum and Ruscus in the second, Cerinthe, Gentiana, Soldanella, Euphorbia, and Oxalis in the third. The handiness of the book, the little interest taken by most of the botanists of the time in the question of natural relationship, and the continually increasing eagerness for a knowledge of individual plants, are evidently the reasons why Tournefort gained over to his side most of the botanists not only of France, but also of England, Italy, and Germany; and why later attempts in systematic botany during the first thirty or forty years of the 18th century were almost exclusively founded on his system, as they were afterwards on the sexual system of Linnaeus. Boerhaave, among others, proposed a system in 1710, which may be regarded as a combination of those of Ray, Hermann, and Tournefort, but it met with no support on any other grounds.

We here take our leave of the systematists of the 17th century, and, passing over the mere plant-collectors of the first thirty years of the 18th, turn at once to Linnaeus.

Carl Linnaeus^[10], called Carl von Linné after 1757, was born in 1707 at Rashult in Sweden, where his father was preacher. He began the study of theology, but was soon drawn away from it by his preference for botany, and in this pursuit he was encouraged by Dr. Rothmann, who sent him to the works of Tournefort. In Lund, where he now studied medicine, he became acquainted with Vaillant's treatise, 'De sexu plantarum,' and had his attention drawn by it to the sexual organs. In 1730, when he was only twenty-three years old, the aged Professor Rudbeck gave up to him his botanical lectures and the management of the botanic gardens, and here Linnaeus began the composition of the 'Bibliotheca Botanica,' the 'Classes Plantarum,' and the 'Genera Plantarum.' In the year 1732 he made a botanical journey to Lapland, and in 1734 to Dalecarlia; in 1735 he went to Holland, where he obtained a degree; in that country he remained three years, and printed the works above-named, together with the 'Systema Naturae,' the 'Fundamenta Botanica,' and other treatises. From Holland he visited England and France. In the year 1738 he returned to Stockholm and was compelled to gain a livelihood as a physician, till in 1741 he became Professor of Botany in Upsala, where he died in the year 1778.

Linnaeus is commonly regarded as the reformer of the natural sciences which are distinguished by the term descriptive, and it is usual to say that a new epoch in the history of our science begins with him, as a new astronomy began with Copernicus, and new physics with Galileo. This conception of Linnaeus' historical position, as far at least as his chief subject, botany, is concerned, can only be entertained by one who is not acquainted with the works of Cesalpino, Jung, Ray, and Bachmann, or who disregards the numerous quotations from them in Linnaeus' theoretical writings. On the contrary, Linnaeus is pre-eminently the last link in the chain of development represented by the above-named writers; the field of view and the ideas of Linnaeus are substantially the same as theirs; he shares with them in the fundamental errors of the time, and indeed essentially contributed to transmit them to the 19th century. But to maintain that Linnaeus marks not the beginning of a new epoch, but the conclusion of an old one, does not at all imply that his labours had no influence upon the time that followed him. Linnaeus stands in the same relation to the systematists of the period we are considering that Kaspar Bauhin does to the botanists of the 16th century; as Bauhin gathered up all that was serviceable in his predecessors, Cesalpino only excepted, while the botanists of our second period drew again from him, though they set out from other points of view than his; so Linnaeus adopted all that the systematists of the 17th century had built upon the foundation of Cesalpino's ideas, gave it unity and fashioned it into a system without introducing into it anything that was fundamentally and essentially new; all that had been developed in systematic botany from Cesalpino to Tournefort culminated in him, and the results, which he put together in a very original form and with the power of a master, were no more unfruitful for the further development of botany than the contents of Kaspar Bauhin's works for the successors of Cesalpino.

Whoever carefully compares the works of Cesalpino, Jung, Morison, Ray, Bachmann, and Tournefort with Linnaeus, 'Fundamenta Botanica' (1736), his 'Classes Plantarum' (1738), and his 'Philosophia Botanica' (1751), must be thoroughly convinced that the ideas on which his theories are based are to be found scattered up and down in the works of his predecessors; further, whoever has traced the history of the sexual theory from the time of Camerarius (1694), must allow that Linnaeus added nothing new to it, though he contributed essentially to its recognition, and that even after Koelreuter's labours he continued to entertain some highly obscure and even mystical notions on the subject.

But that which gave Linnaeus so overwhelming an importance for his own time was the skilful way in which he gathered up all that had been done before him; this fusing together of the scattered acquisitions of the past is the great and characteristic merit of Linnaeus.

Cesalpino was the first who introduced Aristotelian modes of thought into botany; his system was intended to be a natural one, but it was in reality extremely unnatural; Linnaeus, in whose works the profound impression which he had received from Cesalpino is everywhere to be traced, retained all that was important in his predecessor's views, but perceived at the same time what no one before him had perceived, that the method pursued by Cesalpino, Morison, Ray, Tournefort, and Bachmann could never do justice to those natural affinities which it was their object to discover, and that in this way only an artificial though very serviceable arrangement could be attained, while the exhibition of natural affinities must be sought by other means.

As regards the terminology of the parts of plants, which was all that the morphology of the day attempted, Linnaeus simply adopted all that was contained in the Isagoge of Jung, but gave it a more perspicuous form, and advanced the theory of the flower by accepting without hesitation the sexual importance of the stamens, which was still but little attended to; he thus arrived at a better general conception of the flower, and this bore fruit again in a terminology which is as clear as it is convenient; the terms monoecious, dioecious, triandrous, monogynous, etc., still used in the science, and the later-invented expressions dichogamous, protandrous, protogynous, etc., owe their origin to this correct conception of the sexual relations in plants. But there was one great misconception in the matter, which has not a little contributed to increase Linnaeus' reputation. He called his artificial system, founded on the number, union, and grouping of the stamens and carpels, the sexual system of plants, because he rested its supposed superiority on the fact, that it was founded upon organs the function of which lays claim to the very highest importance. But it is obvious that the sexual system of Linnaeus would have the same value for the purposes of classification, if the stamens had nothing whatever to do with propagation, or if their sexual significance were quite unknown. For it is exactly those characters of the stamens which Linnaeus employs for purposes of classification, their number and mode of union, which are matter of entire indifference as regards the sexual function.

But though the notion that this artificial system has any important connection with the doctrine of the sexuality of plants is evidently due to a confusion of ideas, yet the progress of the science has shown, that Linnaeus' sexual system did often and necessarily lead to the establishing of natural groups for the very reason, that the characters of the stamens which he employed are entirely independent of their function; for we must regard it as an important result of the labours of systematists, that those characters of organisms are shown to be of the greatest value for classification, which are entirely or in a very great measure independent of the functions of the organs. The error, which led Cesalpino to make the functional importance of the parts of fructification the principle of his division, reappears therefore in Linnaeus in another form; to find a principle of division, he turns to those organs, whose function appears to him the most important, but he takes his characters not from differences of function, but from the number and mode of union, which are of no importance for the sexual function. We meet with this error in Leibnitz and Burckhard, who are mentioned here merely to defend Linnaeus from the charge repeatedly brought against him by his contemporaries that he was indebted to these two writers for the idea of his sexual system. They erroneously found in the great physiological importance of the sexual organs a reason for deriving from their differences the principles of division that were to found a system; this error in theory Linnaeus shared with them, but they did not correct it in practice, as Linnaeus did, by confining himself to purely morphological features in working out his system. What the renowned philosopher^[11] incidentally uttered in the year 1701 on the matter in question is moreover so unimportant and so indistinct, that Linnaeus could not gain much from it; what Burckhard^[12] says on the subject in his often-quoted letter to Leibnitz (1702) is indeed much better, and comes near to Linnaeus' idea; but it is a very long way from the hints there given to the completion of the well-articulated and highly practical system which Linnaeus constructed. The botanists of the 16th century, and in the main even Morison and Ray, had in one-sided fashion devoted their chief attention to distinguishing species, Bachmann and Tournefort to the establishment of generic characters, while they neglected species; Linnaeus, on the contrary, applied equal care and much greater skill to describing both genera and species. He reduced to practical shape the suggestion which Bachmann had left to his successors, and so must be regarded, if not as the inventor, at least as the real founder of the binary nomenclature of organisms. It is only fulfilling the duty of a historian to state the sources from which Linnaeus drew, but it would be a misapprehension to see in this any depreciation of a great man; it were to be desired that all naturalists would, like Linnaeus, adopt all that is good in the contributions of their predecessors, and improve or adapt it as he did. Linnaeus himself has repeatedly quoted the sources of his knowledge as far as they were known to him, and has in many cases estimated the services of his predecessors with a candour which never betrays a trace of jealousy, but often displays a warm respect, as may be seen especially in the short introductions to the several systems given in the 'Classes Plantarum.' Linnaeus could not only recognise what was good in his predecessors and occasionally make use of it, but he imparted life and fruitfulness to the thoughts of others by applying them as he applied his own thoughts, and bringing out whatever theoretical value they possessed. It was evidently this freshness of life that often misled his successors into believing that Linnaeus thought out and discovered everything for himself. We learn to appreciate the contributions of Cesalpino and his successors in the 17th century, and even of Kaspar Bauhin for the first time in the works of Linnaeus; we are astonished to see the long-known thoughts of these writers, which in their own place look unimportant and incomplete, fashioned by Linnaeus into a living whole; thus he was at once and in the best sense both receptive and productive, and he might perhaps have done more for the theory of the science if he had not been entangled in one grave error, which was more sharply pronounced in him than in his predecessors and contemporaries, that, namely, of supposing that the highest and only worthy task of a botanist is to know all species of the vegetable kingdom exactly by name. Linnaeus distinctly declared that this was his view, and his school in Germany and England adhered to it so firmly that it established itself with the general public, who to the present day consider it as a self-evident proposition that a botanist exists essentially for the purpose of at once designating any and every plant by a name. Like his predecessors, Linnaeus regarded morphology and general theoretical botany only as means to be used for discovering the principles of terminology and definition, with a view to the improvement of the art of describing plants.

We have hitherto spoken chiefly of the manner in which Linnaeus dealt with his subject in matters of detail; in his inner nature he was a schoolman, and that in a higher degree than even Cesalpino himself, who should rather be called an Aristotelian in the strict sense of the word. But to say that Linnaeus' mode of thought is thoroughly scholastic is virtually saying that he was not an investigator of nature in the modern meaning of the word; we might point to the fact that Linnaeus never made a single important discovery throwing light on the nature of the vegetable world; but that would still not prove that he was a schoolman.

True investigation of nature consists not only in deducing rules from exact and comparative observation of the phenomena of nature, but in discovering the genetic forces from which the causal connexion, cause and effect may be derived. In the pursuit of these objects, it is compelled to be constantly correcting existing conceptions and theories, producing new conceptions and new theories, and thus adjusting our own ideas more and more to the nature of things. The understanding does not prescribe to the objects, but the objects to the understanding. The Aristotelian philosophy and its medieval form, scholasticism, proceeds in exactly the contrary way; it is not properly concerned with acquiring new conceptions and new theories by means of investigation, for conceptions and theories have been once for all established; experience must conform itself to the ready-made system of thought; whatever does not so conform must be dialectically twisted and explained till it apparently fits in with the whole. From this point of view the intellectual task consists essentially in this twisting and turning of facts, for the general idea of the whole is already made and needs not to be altered. Experience in the higher sense of investigation of nature is rendered impossible by the fact, that we are supposed to know all the ultimate principles of things; but these ultimate principles of scholasticism are at bottom only words with extremely indefinite meaning, abstractions obtained by a series of jumps from every-day experience, which has not been tried and refined in the crucible of science, and is therefore worthless; and the higher the abstraction is raised, the farther it withdraws from the guiding hand of experience, the more venerable and more important do these 'abstracta' appear, and we can finally come to a mutual understanding about them, though again only through figures and metaphors^[13]. Science, according to the scholastic method, is a playing with abstract conceptions; the best player is he who can so combine them together, that the real contradictions are skilfully concealed. On the contrary, the object of true investigation, whether in philosophy or in natural science, is to make unsparing discovery of existing contradictions and to question the facts until our conceptions are cleared up, and if necessary the whole theory and general view is replaced by a better. In the Aristotelian philosophy and in scholasticism facts are merely examples for the illustration of fixed abstract conceptions, but in the real investigation of nature they are the fruitful soil from which new conceptions, new combinations of thought, new theories, and general views spring and grow. The most pernicious feature in scholasticism and the Aristotelian philosophy is the confounding of mere conceptions and words with the objective reality of the things denoted by them; men took a special pleasure in deducing the nature of things from the original meaning of the words, and even the question of the existence or non-existence of a thing was answered from the idea of it. This way of thinking is found everywhere in Linnaeus, not only where he is busy as systematist and describer, but where he wishes to give information on the nature of plants and the phenomena of their life, as in his 'Fundamenta,' his 'Philosophia Botanica,' and especially in his 'Amoenitates Academicae.' From among many instances we may select his mode of proving sexuality in plants. Linnaeus knew and lauded the services rendered to botany by Rudolph Jacob Camerarius, who as a genuine investigator of nature had demonstrated the sexuality of plants in the only possible way, namely, that of experiment. But Linnaeus cares little for this experimental proof; he just notices it in passing, and expends all his art on a genuine scholastic demonstration intended to prove the existence of sexuality as arising necessarily from the nature of the plant. He connects his demonstration with the dictum 'omne vivum ex ovo,' which Harvey had founded on an imperfect induction, and which he evidently takes for an a priori principle, and concludes from it that plants also must proceed from an 'ovum,' overlooking the fact that in 'omne vivum ex ovo' plants already form a half of the 'omne vivum'; then he continues, 'reason and experience teach us that plants proceed from an 'ovum,' and the cotyledons confirm it'; reason, experience, and cotyledons! Surely a remarkable assemblage of proofs. In the next sentence he confines himself at first to the cotyledons, which according to him spring in animals from the yolk of the egg, in which the life-point is found; consequently, he says, the seed-leaves of plants, which envelope the 'corculum,' are the same thing; but that the progeny is formed not simply from the 'ovum,' nor from the fertilising matter in the male organs, but from the two combined, is shown by animals, hybrids, reason, and anatomy. By reason in this and the previous sentence he understands the necessity, concluded from the nature, that is, the conception of the thing, that it must be so; animals supply him with the analogy, and anatomy can prove nothing, as long as it is not known what is the design of the anatomical arrangements. But the weakest side of this proof lies in the hybrids, for Linnaeus, when he wrote the 'Fundamenta,' knew of none except the mule; hybrids in plants were first described by Koelreuter in 1761, and these Linnaeus nowhere mentions; and what amount of proof can be drawn from the vegetable hybrids, which Linnaeus afterwards supposed himself to have observed, but which were no hybrids, we shall see in the history of the sexual theory; here we need only remark that he arrives at the existence of these hybrids from the idea of sexuality exactly as he arrived at that of sexuality from the idea of hybridisation. Then he goes on with his demonstration; 'that an egg germinates without fecundation is denied by experience, and this must hold good therefore of the eggs^[14] of plants every plant is provided with flower and fruit, even where these are not visible to the eye'; with Linnaeus, of course, this is logically concluded from the conception of the plant or of the 'ovum'; he alleges indeed certain observations as well, but they are incorrect. He continues, 'The fructification consists of the sexual organs of the flowers; that the anthers are the male organs, the pollen the fertilising matter, is proved by their nature, further by the fact that the flower precedes the fruit, as also by their position, the time, the loculaments (anthers), by castration, and by the structure of the pollen.' Here too the main point with Linnaeus is the nature of the male organs, and that we may know what this nature is he refers to a former paragraph, where we learn that the essence of the flower is in the anthers and stigma. Almost all his demonstrations consist of such reasonings in a circle and in arguing from the thing to be proved. And while the passages quoted show how much he did for the doctrine of sexuality, we find this sophistical style of reasoning still more copiously displayed in the essay entitled 'Sponsalia Plantarum' in the 'Amoenitates' (i. p. 77), and in a worse form still in the essay, 'Plantae Hybridae' (Amoen. iii. p. 29). That Linnaeus had not the remotest conception of the way in which the truth of a hypothetical fact is proved on the principles of strict inductive investigation is shown by these and many other examples, and by his enquiry into the seeds of mosses (Amoen. ii. p. 266), upon which he prided himself not a little, but which is really inconceivably bad even for that time (1750). It was not Linnaeus' habit to occupy himself with what we should call an enquiry; whatever escaped the first critical glance he left quietly alone; it did not occur to him to examine into the causes of the phenomena that interested him; he classified them and had done with them; as for instance in his 'Somnus Plantarum,' as he called the periodical movements of plants. We cannot read much of the 'Philosophia Botanica' or the 'Amoenitates' without feeling that we are transported into the literature of the middle ages by the kind of scholastic sophistry which is all that his argumentation amounts to; and yet these works of Linnaeus date from the middle of the last century, from a time when Malpighi, Grew, Camerarius, and Hales had already carried out their model investigations, and his contemporaries Duhamel, Koelreuter, and others were experimenting in true scientific manner. This peculiarity in Linnaeus explains why men like Buffon, Albert Haller, and Koelreuter treated him with a certain contempt; and also why his strict adherents in Germany, who lived on his writings and were unable to separate what was really good in him from his mode of reasoning, came to make their own botany like anything rather than a science of nature. Linnaeus was in fact a dangerous guide for weak minds, for his curious logic, among the worst to be met with in the scholastic writers, was combined with the most brilliant powers of description; the enormous extent of his knowledge of particulars, and above all the pre-eminent firmness and certainty which distinguished his mode of dealing with systematic botany, could not fail to make the profoundest impression on those who judged of the powers of an investigator of nature by these qualities alone. One of his greatest gifts was without doubt the power which he possessed of framing precise and striking descriptions of species and genera in the animal and vegetable kingdoms by means of a few marks contained in the smallest possible number of words; in this point he was a model of unrivalled excellence to all succeeding botanists.

On the whole the superiority of Linnaeus lay in his natural gift for discriminating and classifying the objects which engaged his attention; he might almost be said to have been a classifying, co-ordinating, and subordinating machine. He dealt with everything about which he wrote in the way in which he dealt with objects of natural history. The systematic botanists whom he mentions in the 'Classes Plantarum' are classified then and there as fructists, corollists, and calycists. All who occupy themselves in any way with botany are divided into two great classes, the true botanists and mere botanophils, and it is very characteristic of his way of thinking that he places anatomists, gardeners, and physicians in the latter class. True botanists again are either mere collectors or systematists. To the collectors belong all who add to the number of known plants, also authors of monographs and floras, and the botanical explorers of foreign countries, whom we should now more courteously call systematists. By systematists Linnaeus understands those who occupy themselves with the classification and naming of plants, and he divides them into philosophers, systematists proper, and nomenclators; the philosophers are those who study the theory of the science on principles founded on reason and observation, and are subdivided into orators, institutors, erystics, and physiologists; the latter are those who discovered the mystery of sexuality in plants, and hence Malpighi, Hales, and such men are not physiologists in Linnaeus' sense. The second class of systematists, the systematists proper, he distinguishes into orthodox and heterodox, the former taking the grounds of division exclusively from the organs of fructification, while the latter use other marks as well. In this manner Linnaeus treats every subject of which he has to speak, and wherever he can in short, numbered sentences, which look like descriptions of genera and species. His mind and character were fully formed in 1736 when he wrote his 'Fundamenta,' and he preserved his peculiarities of style from that time forward; we find the same modes of expression in the 'Nemesis Divina,' a treatise on religion and morals addressed as a legacy to his son. Where these peculiarities of manner and expression are suitable they make a favourable impression on the reader, as for instance in the short accounts he gives of the various systems in the 'Classes Plantarum,' a work in which Linnaeus was quite in his element; there he traces with a fine instinct the guiding principles of each system, pronounces upon its merits and defects, and sets it before the reader in numbered sentences of epigrammatic brevity. This manner is strictly adhered to in the 'Philosophia' also, and it has certainly helped not a little to withdraw the attention of his reader from his many fallacies in argument, especially his oft-recurring reasonings in a circle.

This remarkable combination of an unscientific philosophy with mastery over the classification of things and conceptions, this mixture of consistency in carrying out his scholastic principles with gross inaccuracies of thought, impart to his style an originality, which is rendered still more striking by the native freshness and directness, and not unfrequently by the poetic feeling, which animate his periods.

In any attempt to estimate the advance which the science owes to the labours of Linnaeus, the chief prominence must be assigned to two points; first to his success in carrying out the binary nomenclature in connection with the careful and methodical study which he bestowed on the distinguishing of genera and species; this system of nomenclature he endeavoured to extend to the whole of the then known vegetable world, and thus descriptive botany in its narrower sense assumed through his instrumentality an entirely new form, which, serving as a model for the naming and defining of the larger groups, could be applied without modification to the founding and completing the natural system. When at a later time Jussieu and De Candolle marked out their families and groups of families, their mode of proceeding was in the main that of Linnaeus when distinguishing his genera by abstraction of specific differences. This merit has been always assigned to Linnaeus without reserve. The second merit has been less recognised, and yet it is at least of equal importance; it is that of having first perceived that the attempt made by Cesalpino and his successors to found a system, that shall do justice to natural affinities, on predetermined marks can never succeed. Linnaeus framed his artificial sexual system, but he exhibited a fragment of a natural system by its side, while he repeatedly declared that the chief task of botanists is to discover the natural system. Thus he cleared the ground for systematic botany. He made use of his own system, because it was extremely convenient for describing individual plants, but he ascribed all true scientific value exclusively to the natural system; and with what success he laboured to advance it may be gathered from the fact, that Bernard de Jussieu founded his improved series of families on the fragment of Linnaeus, and that his nephew, A. L. de Jussieu, by simply adopting Linnaeus' conception of the principle which lies at the foundation of the natural system, succeeded in carrying it on to a further stage of development.

The main features of Linnaeus' theoretical botany can best be learned from the 'Philosophia Botanica,' which may be regarded as a text-book of that which Linnaeus called botany, and which far surpasses all earlier compositions of the kind in perspicuity and precision, and in copiousness of material; and indeed it would be difficult to find in the ninety years after 1781 a text-book of botany which treats what was known on the subject at each period with equal clearness and completeness. In giving the reader some idea of the way in which Linnaeus deals with his subject, it will be well to pass over the first two chapters, which discuss the literature and the various systems which had been proposed, and turn to the third, which under the heading 'Plantae' treats of the general nature of plants, and specially of the organs of vegetation. The vegetable world, says Linnaeus, comprises seven families, Fungi, Algae, Mosses, Ferns, Grasses, Palms, and Plants. All are composed of three kinds of vessels, sap-vessels which convey the fluids, tubes which store up the sap in their cavities, and tracheae which take in air; these statements Linnaeus adopts from Malpighi and Grew. He gives no characteristic marks for the Fungi; of the Algae he says that in them root, leaf, and stem are all fused together; to the Mosses he ascribes an anther without a filament, and separate from the female flower which has no pistil; the seeds of the Mosses have no integument or cotyledons; this characteristic of the Mosses is explained in his paper entitled 'Semina Muscorum' in the 'Amoenitates Academicae,' ii. The Ferns are marked by the fructification on the under side of the fronds, which are therefore not conceived of as leaves. The very simple leaves, the jointed stalk, the 'calyx glumosus,' and the single seed mark the Grasses. The simple stem, the rosette of leaves at the summit, and the spathe of the inflorescence are characteristic of the Palms. All vegetable forms which do not belong to any of the previous families he names Plants. He rejects the customary division into herbs, shrubs, and trees as unscientific. This arrangement of the vegetable kingdom must not be confounded with Linnaeus' fragment of a natural system, in which he adopts sixty-seven families (orders), the Fungi, Algae, Mosses, and Ferns forming each a family. He evidently introduces the divisions in the 'Philosophia,' in order that it may be seen how far the statements that follow are applicable to all the Vegetabilia or only to certain sections of them. The parts in the individual plant which the beginner must distinguish are three; the root, the herb^[15], and the parts of fructification, in which enumeration Linnaeus departs from his predecessors, by whom the fructification and the herb together are opposed to the root. In the central part of the plant is the pith, enclosed by the wood which is formed from the bast; the bast is distinct from the rind, which again is covered by the epidermis; these anatomical facts are from Malpighi; the statement that the pith grows by extending itself and its envelopes is borrowed from Mariotte. Cesalpino's view on the formation of the bud is expressed by Linnaeus in the statement, that the end of a thread of the pith passing through the rind is resolved into a bud, etc. The bud is a compressed stem, capable of unlimited extension till fructification puts a term to vegetation. The fructification is formed by the leaves uniting into a calyx, from which the apex of a branch issues as a flower about one year in advance, while the fruit arising from the substance of the pith cannot begin a new life till the woody substance of the stamens has been absorbed by the fluids of the pistil. In this way Linnaeus corrected Cesalpino's theory of the flower, that he might take into account the sexual importance of the stamens discovered by Camerarius. He concludes by saying that there is no new creation but only a continuous generation, for which he gives the remarkable and thoroughly Cesalpinian reason, 'cum corculum seminis constat parte radicis medullari.'

The root, which takes up the food, and produces the stem and the fructification, consists of pith, wood, bast, and rind, and is divided into the two parts, 'caudex' and 'radicula.' The 'caudex' answers pretty nearly to our primary root and rhizomes, the 'radicula' to what we now call secondary roots.

The herb springs from the root, and is terminated by the fructification; it consists of the stem, leaves, leaf-supports ('fulcrum'), and the organs of hibernation ('hibernaculum'). Then follow the further distinctions of stem and leaves; the terminology, still partly in use and resting essentially on the definitions of Jung, is here set forth in great detail. Linnaeus however does not mention the remarkable distinction between stem and leaf which Jung founded on relations of symmetry, and in general he shows less depth of conception than Jung, confining himself more to the direct impression on the senses, and so distinguishing sometimes where there is no real difference. Examples of this are furnished by the paragraph devoted to 'fulcra.' By this term he designates the subsidiary organs of plants, among which he reckons stipules, bracts, spines, thorns, tendrils, glands, and hairs. It appears from this, that Linnaeus did not extend the idea of the leaf ('folium') to stipules and bracts, and the examples he gives of tendrils show at the same time that he was ignorant of the different morphological character of the organ in Vitis and Pisum. The putting the seven organs above-named together under the idea of 'fulcrum' shows plainly enough that Linnaeus, in framing his terminology, aimed only at distinguishing what was different to the sense by fixed words, in order to obtain means for short diagnoses of species and genera. He had no thought of arriving at more general propositions from a comparison of forms in plants, in order to attain to a deeper insight into their nature. The same thing appears from his notion of 'hibernaculum,' by which he understands a part of the plant which envelopes the stem in its embryonal state and protects it from harm from without; he here distinguishes bulbs from the winter buds of woody plants. In this course of mixing up morphological and biological relations of organs he was followed by botanists till late into our own century.

Linnaeus goes far beyond his predecessors in distinguishing and naming the organs of fructification, the subject of the fourth chapter of the 'Philosophia Botanica.' The fructification, he says, is a temporary part in plants devoted to propagation, terminating the old and beginning the new. He distinguishes the following seven parts: (i) the calyx, which represents the rind, including in this term the involucre of the Umbelliferae, the spathe, the calyptra of Mosses, and even the volva of certain Fungi, another instance of the way in which Linnaeus was guided by external appearance in his terminology of the parts of plants; (2) the corolla, which represents the inner rind (bast) of the plant; (3) the stamen, which produces the pollen; (4) the pistil, which is attached to the fruit and receives the pollen; here for the first time the ovary, style, and stigma are clearly distinguished. But next comes as a special organ (5) the pericarp, the ovary which contains the seed. As bulbs and buds were treated not simply as young shoots, but as separate organs, so here too the ripe fruit is regarded not merely as the developed ovary, but as a special organ. Nevertheless, Linnaeus distinguishes the different forms of fruit much better than his predecessors had done. (6) The seed is a part of the plant that falls off from it, the rudiment of a new plant, and it is excited to active life by the pollen. The treatment of the seed and its parts is the feeblest of all Linnaeus' efforts; he follows Cesalpino, but his account of the parts of the seed is much more imperfect than that of Cesalpino and his successors. The embryo is called the 'corculum,' and two parts are distinguished in it, the 'plumula' and the 'rostellum' (radicle). The cotyledon is co-ordinated with the 'corculum,' and is regarded therefore not as part of the embryo but as a distinct organ of the seed; it is defined as 'corpus laterale seminis bibulum caducum.' Nothing could be worse, and it seems almost incredible that so bad a definition and distinction could be given in 1751, and again in 1770, by the first botanist of his time, when Malpighi and Grew, nearly a hundred years earlier, had illustrated the parts of the seed and even the history of its development and its germination by numerous figures. He does not mention the endosperm, evidently confounding it with the cotyledon, though Ray had already distinguished it clearly from the other parts of the seed. Linnaeus' terminology of the seed supplies more than sufficient corroboration of our previous remark, that he shows incapacity for the careful investigation of any object at all difficult to observe, and it will now seem a small matter that he, like most of the earlier botanists, treats one-seeded indehiscent fruits as seeds, and hence makes the pappus a part of the seed. (7) By the word 'receptaculum' he understands everything by which the parts of the fructification are connected together, both the 'receptaculum proprium,' which unites the parts of the single flower, and the 'receptaculum commune,' under which term he comprises the most diverse forms of inflorescence (umbel, cyme, spadix).

He concludes with the remark that the essence of the flower consists in the anther and the stigma, that of the fruit in the seed, that of the fructification in the flower and the fruit, and that of all vegetable forms in the fructification, and he adds a long list of distinctions between the organs of fructification with their names; among these organs appear the nectaries, which he was the first to distinguish.

In the fifth chapter he discusses the question of difference of sex in plants. His views on this subject have been already mentioned in order to show that they were entirely founded on worthless scholastic deductions; here we may quote a few of the propositions which were famous in after times. We assume, he says, that two individuals of different sexes were created in the beginning of things in every kind of living creatures. Plants, though they are without sensation, yet live as do animals, for they have a beginning and an advance in age (aetas), and are liable to disease and death; they have also a power of movement, a natural appetency (propulsio), an anatomy, and an organic structure (organismus). Simple explanations are given of these words, but they prove nothing about the matter. He then expounds the whole theory of sexuality, which is made to rest entirely on scholastic arguments, and in doing this he spins out to excessive length the parallel which he draws between the conditions of sexuality in animals and plants. It is manifestly this chapter of the 'Philosophia Botanica,' together with the treatise 'Sponsalia Plantarum,' which led the adherents of Linnaeus, who were ignorant of the older literature of the subject and were much impressed by his scholastic dexterity, to celebrate him as the founder of the sexual theory of plants; whereas a more careful study of history shows incontrovertibly that Linnaeus helped in this way to disseminate the doctrine, but did absolutely nothing to establish it. The writings of Linnaeus which we have hitherto examined are occupied with the nature of plants, and of this he knew nothing more than he gathered from the investigations and reflections of his predecessors; and it is here especially that his peculiar scholasticism is exhibited in contrast with the facts obtained by induction which he communicated to his readers. But the strong side of his intellect appears with splendid effect in the succeeding chapters of the 'Philosophia,' which treat of the principles of systematic botany; here, where he has no longer to establish facts, but to arrange ideas, to dispose and summarise, we find Linnaeus thoroughly in his element. The groundwork of botanical science, he begins, is twofold, classification and naming. The constituting of classes, orders, and genera he calls theoretical classification; the constituting of species and varieties is practical classification. The work of classification carried out by Cesalpino, Morison, Tournefort, and others leads to the establishing of a system; the mere practice of describing species may be carried on by those who know nothing of systematic botany. These expressions of Linnaeus are interesting, because like other remarks of his they show that he placed the establishment and arrangement of the larger groups above the mere distinguishing of individual forms; his disciples to a great extent forgot their master's teaching, and fancied that the collecting and distinguishing of species was systematic botany. He opposes the system itself, which deals with the relative conceptions of classes, orders, genera, species, and varieties, to a mere synoptical view, serving with its dichotomy only to practical ends. Then comes the often-quoted sentence, 'We reckon so many species as there were distinct forms created "in principio."' In a former place he had said 'ab initio' instead of 'in principio'; instead therefore of a beginning in time he here posits an ideal, theoretical beginning, which is more in accordance with his philosophical views. That new species can arise is, he continues, disproved by continuous generation and propagation, and by daily observation, and by the cotyledons. It is hard to understand how the Linnaean school till far into our own century could have remained firm in a doctrine resting on such arguments as these. Linnaeus' definition of varieties shows that he understood by the word species fundamentally distinct forms; there are, he says, as many varieties as there are different plants growing from the seed of the same species; and he adds that a variety owes its origin to an accidental cause, such as climate, soil, warmth, the wind; but this is evidently mere arbitrary assumption. Judging by all he says, his view is that species differ in their inner nature, varieties only in outward form. Here, where we find the dogma of the constancy of species for the first time expressed in precise terms, a dogma generally accepted till the appearance of the theory of descent, we should be justified in demanding proof; but since dogmas as a rule do not admit of proof, Linnaeus simply states his view^[16], unless we are to take the sentence, 'negat generatio continuata, propagatio, observationes quotidianae, cotyledones,' as proving the assertion that new species never appear. We shall see further on to what surprising conclusions Linnaeus was himself led by his dogma, when he had to take into account the relations of affinity in genera and larger groups. The species and the genus, he continues, are always the work of nature, the variety is often that of cultivation; the class and the order depend both on nature and on art, which must mean that the larger groups of the vegetable kingdom have not the same objective reality as the species and the genus, but rest partly on opinion. That Linnaeus estimated the labours of the systematists after Cesalpino and the contributions of the German fathers of botany up to Bauhin, as they have been judged of in the present work, is shown by paragraph 163, where he explains the word habit, and adds that Kaspar Bauhin and the older writers had excellently divined (divinarunt) the affinities of plants from their habit, and even real systematists had often erred, where the habit pointed out to them the right way. But he says that the natural arrangement, which is the ultimate aim of botany, is founded, as the moderns have discovered, on the fructification, though even this will not determine all the classes. It is interesting therefore to observe how Linnaeus further on (paragraph 168) directs, that in forming genera, though they must rest on the fructification, yet it is needful to attend to the habit also, lest an incorrect genus should be established on some insignificant mark (levi de causa): but this attention to the habit must be managed with reserve, so as not to disturb the scientific diagnosis.

Linnaeus next lays down with great detail each several rule, which must be observed in establishing species, genera, orders, and classes, and it is here that he displays his unrivalled skill as a systematist. These rules were strictly observed by himself in his numerous descriptive works, and thus a spirit of order and clearness was introduced into the art of describing plants, which gave it at once a different appearance from that which it had received at the hands of his predecessors. Whoever therefore compares the 'Genera Plantarum,' the 'Systema Naturae,' and other descriptive works of Linnaeus with those of Morison, Ray, Bachmann, or Tournefort, finds so great a revolution effected by them, that he is impressed with the persuasion that botany first became a science in the hands of Linnaeus; all former efforts seem to be so unskilful and without order in comparison with his method. Without doubt the greatest and most lasting service which Linnaeus rendered both to botany and to zoology lies in the certainty and precision which he introduced into the art of describing. But if a reformation was thus effected in botany, as Linnaeus himself took pleasure in saying, it must not be overlooked that the knowledge of the nature of plants was rather hindered than advanced by him. Ray, Bachmann, and in part also Morison and Tournefort, had already liberated themselves to a great extent from the influence of scholasticism, and they still give us the impression of having been genuine investigators of nature; but Linnaeus fell back again into the scholastic modes of thought, and these were so intimately combined with his brilliant performances in systematic botany, that his successors were unable to separate the one from the other.

The feeling for order and perspicuity, which made Linnaeus a reformer of the art of describing, combined with his scholasticism, was evidently the cause of his not bestowing more energetic labour on the natural system. It has been repeatedly mentioned that it was he who first established sixty-five truly natural groups in his fragment of the early date of 1738; and a certain feeling for natural affinity is shown in the establishment of his seven families, Fungi, Algae, Mosses, Ferns, Grasses, Palms, and Plants properly so-called. Moreover in paragraph 163 of the 'Philosophia Botanica,' he carries out the division of the whole vegetable kingdom into Acotyledons, Monocotyledons, and Polycotyledons with their subdivisions very admirably; and thus we see him continually impelled towards a natural arrangement, but never bestowing upon it the necessary labour and thought.

And so two different conceptions of a system of plants continued to subsist side by side with each other in the mind of Linnaeus; one more superficial, and adapted for practical use, expressed in his artificial sexual system, and one more profound and scientifically valuable, embodied in his fragment and in the natural groups above-mentioned.

The same may be said also of Linnaeus' morphological views; here, too, a more superficial pursued its way along with a more profound conception. He formed his terminology of the parts of plants for practical use in describing them, and convenient as it is, it seems nevertheless shallow or superficial, because its foundations are not more deeply laid in the comparative study of forms. But we discover from very various passages in his writings that he felt the need of a more profound conception of plant-form, and what he was able to say on the subject he put together under the head of 'metamorphosis plantarum.' His doctrine of metamorphosis is entirely based on the views of Cesalpino, with which we have already become acquainted, though he did not adopt them in their original form, but endeavoured to develop them in true Cesalpinian fashion; for on the one hand he derived leaves and parts of flowers from the tissues of the stem, and on the other conceived of the parts of the flower as only altered leaves. This doctrine of metamorphosis appears in somewhat confused form in the last page of his 'Philosophia Botanica.' There he says that the whole of the herb is a continuation of the medullary substance of the root; the principle of the flowers and leaves is the same, because both spring from the tissue-layers surrounding the pith, as Cesalpino had taught. The statement which follows, that the principle of the bud and the leaves is identical, would be a departure from Cesalpino, and in any case inconsistent, without the explanation that the bud consists of rudimentary leaves; but this again puts the axial portion of the bud out of sight. The perianth, he says, comes from concrescent rudiments of leaves. How closely Linnaeus adhered to Cesalpino in his later years appears in his explanation of the catkin, which comes next and which is taken entirely from Cesalpino's theory. That a more superficial and a more profound conception pursue their way together unadjusted in Linnaeus' speculations on form is specially shown by the fact, that in the text of the 'Philosophia Botanica,' paragraph 84, he places the 'stipulae' under the idea of 'fulcra' and not under that of 'folia,' while on the contrary at the end of the same work, where he brings together the different paragraphs respecting metamorphosis, he speaks of the 'stipulae' as appendages of the leaves.

The idea of Cesalpino, that the parts of the flower which surround the fruit arise like the ordinary leaves from the tissues that enclose the pith, is further developed by Linnaeus in his 'Metamorphosis Plantarum,' in the fourth volume of the 'Amoenitates Academicae' (1759), in a very strange manner. He compares the formation of the flower with the metamorphosis of animals, and especially of insects, and after describing the changes that take place in animals, he says at page 370 that plants are subject to similar change. The metamorphosis of insects consists in the putting off different skins, so that they finally come forth naked in their true and perfect form. This metamorphosis we also find in most plants, for they consist, at least in the truly living part of the root, of rind, bast, wood, and pith. The rind is to the plant what the skin is to the larva of an insect, and after putting this skin off there remains a naked insect. When the flower is produced in the plant the rind opens and forms the calyx (exactly Cesalpino's view), and from out of this the inner parts of the plant issue to form the flower, so that the bast, the wood, and the pith issue forth naked in the form of corolla, stamens, and stigma. So long as the plant lies concealed within the rind and clothed only with leaves, it appears to us as unrecognisable and obscure as a butterfly, which in its larva-condition is covered with skin and spines.

In this doctrine of metamorphosis, which Linnaeus founded on Cesalpino, the chief point to observe is, that the ordinary leaves are identical with the exterior parts of the flower, because both originate in the outer tissues of the stem. The pertinent fact, which may easily be observed without a microscope, that the concentric arrangement of outer and inner rind, wood, and pith occurs only in some flowering plants, that the case is quite different with Monocotyledons, and that Cesalpino's theory of the flower cannot properly be applied to them, these are things which we must not expect to find Linnaeus with his peculiar modes of thought taking into consideration. The want of firm standing-ground in experience is shown also by the fact, that with his own and Cesalpino's theory of the flower he combined another view of its nature, which under the name of 'prolepsis plantarum' was set forth in two dissertations in 1760 and 1763, but the two theories are scarcely compatible with one another. While the last paragraph in the 'Philosophia Botanica' says, 'Flos ex gemma annuo spatio foliis praecocior est,' the dissertations contain the doctrine^[17], that the flower is nothing but the synchronous appearance of leaves, which properly belong to the bud-formations of six consecutive years, in such a way that the leaves of the bud destined to be unfolded in the second year of the plants become bracts, the leaves of the third year the calyx, those of the fourth the corolla, those of the fifth the stamens, those of the sixth the pistil. Here we see once more how Linnaeus moves in the sphere of arbitrary assumptions with no thought of exact observation, for this whole theory of prolepsis rests on nothing that can be called a well-ascertained fact.

Yet a third time we find in Linnaeus the juxtaposition of a superficial view resting on every-day perception, and a more profound and to some extent a philosophical view; this is the case where he is concerned on the one hand with the dogma of the constancy of species, and on the other hand has to explain the fact of natural relationship and its gradations. Apart from some insignificant verbal explanations, Linnaeus adduced nothing in support of the dogma but the every-day perception of the unchangeableness of species, and to this he held fast to the end of his life; but it was important to find an explanation of the fact, to which he himself repeatedly drew attention, that genera, orders, and classes do not merely rest on opinion but indicate really existing affinities. His mode of solving the difficulty was a very remarkable one; not only does the scholastic manner of thought appear here again quite unalloyed by modern science, but he grounds his explanation once more on the old a priori notion that the pith is the vital principle in the plant, and also on his own assumption, that in the sexual act the woody substance of the anthers combines with the pith-substance of the pistil. Hugo Mohl has given a clear account of the matter in No. 46 of the 'Botanische Zeitung' for 1870, although neither he nor Wigand nor most of Linnaeus' biographers seem to know, that his theories are all to be traced to Cesalpino. Linnaeus' theory of natural affinities, as he gave it in 1762 in the 'Fundamentum Fructificationis,' and in 1764 in the sixth edition of the 'Genera Plantarum,' is as follows: At the creation of plants (in ipsa creatione) one species was made as the representative of each natural order, and these plants so corresponding to the natural orders were distinct from one another in habit and fructification, that is, absolutely distinct. In the communication of 1764 the following words occur:—

1. Creator T.O. in primordio vestiit vegetabile medullare principiis constitutivis diversi corticalis, unde tot difformia individua, quot ordines naturales, prognata.

2. Classicas has plantas Omnipotens miscuit inter se, unde tot genera ordinum, quot inde plantae.

3. Genericas has miscuit natura, unde tot species congeneres, quot hodie existunt.

4. Species has miscuit casus, unde totidem quot passim occurrunt varietates.

Hugo Mohl was right in rejecting Heufler's assumption that a view resembling the modern theory of descent was contained in these paragraphs. It must be plain to any one who knows the ideas of Aristotle, Theophrastus, and Cesalpino, within the sphere of which Linnaeus is here moving, what he understands by his 'vegetabile medullare' and 'corticale'; that he does not for a moment mean a plant of simplest organisation, but that both expressions indicate only the original elements of vegetation which the Creator, according to Linnaeus, united to one another at the first. He assumed that plants of the highest and of the lowest grades of organisation were originally created at the same time and alongside of one another; no new class-plants were afterwards created, but from the mingling together of the existing ones by the act of the Creator generically distinct forms were produced, and the natural mingling of these gave birth to species, while varieties were mere chance deviations from species. But it is to be noticed that in these minglings or hybridisations the woody substance of the one form which supplies the pollen is united with the pith-substance of the other form, whose pistil is thus fertilised; and so in these supposed crossings it is always the two original elements of the plant, the medullary and the cortical, which are mingled together.

No further proof is wanting that this theory of Linnaeus is no precursor of our theory of descent, but is most distinctly opposed to it; it is utterly and entirely the fruit of scholasticism, while the essential feature in Darwin's theory of descent is that scholasticism finds no place in it.

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1. Andrea Cesalpino (Caesalpinus) of Arezzo was born in 1519. He was a pupil of Ghini and professor at Pisa, and afterwards physician to Pope Clement VIII. He died in 1603.
2. We find it stated in Theophrastus that if the pith of the vine is destroyed the grapes contain no stones; this evidently points to a still higher antiquity for the view that the seeds are formed from the pith; see the De causis plantarum, v. ch. 5, in the ' Theophrasti quae supersunt opera' of Schneider, Leipzig, 1818.
3. These words are quoted by Linnaeus in the 'Philosophia Botanica,' par. 159.
4. See his biography by Guhrauer, 'Joachim Jungius und sein Zeitalter,' Tübingen, 1850; on his place in philosophy consult Ueberweg ('Geschichte der Philosophic,' iii. p. 119), who regards him as a forerunner of Leibnitz.
5. Morison served in the royal army against Cromwell, and after the defeat of his party retired to Paris, where he studied botany under Robin. He was made physician to Charles II and Professor of Botany in 1660, and Professor of the same faculty in Oxford ten years later. See Sprengel, 'Geschichte der Botanik,' ii. p. 30.
6. The wood-engraving of the 16th century had fallen into decay, and engraving on copper-plate had taken its place. A thick volume of figures of plants in the largest folio size engraved on copper, the 'Hortus Eistädtensis," appeared in the beginning of the 17th century.
7. John Ray, born at Black Notley in Essex, was also a zoologist of eminence. He studied theology and travelled in England and on the continent, and afterwards devoted himself entirely to science, being supported by a pension from Willoughby. See Carus, 'Geschichte der Zoologie,' p. 428.
8. A. Q. Bachmann (Rivinus) was the third son of Andreas Bachmann, a physician and philologist of Halle. He is said to have spent 80,000 florins on the publication of his works and the providing them with the 500 copper-plates with which they were illustrated. A life of him and just estimate of his work, by Du Petit-Thouars, is to be found in the 'Biographic universelle ancienne et moderne.'
9. Tournefort was born at Aix in Provence, and received his early education in a Jesuit college. He was intended for the Church, but after his father's death, in 1677, he was able to devote himself entirely to botany. After travelling in France and Spain, he became Professor at the Jardin des Plantes in 1683; but while thus engaged he made various journeys in Europe, and in 1700 visited Greece, Asia, and Africa—everywhere diligently collecting the plants which he afterwards described.
10. In addition to the Autobiography of Linnaeus, various accounts of his life have been written, some of which are mentioned in Pritzel's 'Thesaurus Lit. Bot.' A strange revelation of his character and sentiments is to be found in his treatise on the 'Nemesis divina,' which he bequeathed to his son. Of this work Professor Fries has unfortunately published an epitome only, which is noticed in the Regensburg Flora, No. 44 (1851). On Linnaeus' services to zoology, see Carus, 'Geschichte der Zoologie,' München, 1872.
11. Printed in Jessen's 'Botanik der Gegenwart und Vorzeit,' p. 287.
12. 'Epistola ad Godofredum Gulielmum Leibnitzium etc. cum Laurentii Heisteri praefatione,' Helmstadii, 1750.
13. See the excellent account of the Platonic and Aristotelian philosophies and of scholasticism in Albert Lange's 'Geschichte des Materialismus,' second edition, 1874.
14. The comparison of the vegetable seed with the egg in animals, which is in itself incorrect, comes, as Aristotle tells us, from Empedocles, and was a favourite one with the systematists.
15. Linnaeus uses the word 'herba' for the older word 'germen,' which with him means the ovary.
16. It would not be difficult to prove that the doctrine of the constancy of species is properly a conclusion from scholasticism, and ultimately from the Platonic doctrine of ideas, and was therefore assumed as self-evident before the time of Linnaeus, who only gave it a more distinct and conscious expression; his arguments from experience are without force. The strength of the dogma lies in its relation to the platonico-scholastic philosophy, which the systematists followed, more or less consciously, up to quite recent times.
17. The authority for the contents of these dissertations is Wigand's 'Kritik und Geschichte der Metamorphose' (1846).