American Eden

by Victoria Johnson

  As debate on the legislation opened, grumbling and sniggers began circulating through the Capitol and out into the city. One legislator later said it should be called “An act for the relief of Doctor Hosack,” ignoring the fact that his work at the garden had been motivated by a concern for his fellow citizens. Other men conceded that botany had its scientific merits, but with a British war looking increasingly likely, the legislature simply had to focus on more urgent issues—for example, building fortifications against a possible invasion of New York and arming the state’s militia. When the citizens of Albany got wind of the Elgin business, a local paper published a scathing letter received by an Albany resident. The letter had been written by a man who had gone to see the Elgin Botanic Garden for himself. Opinion pieces of the day were often published anonymously or under pseudonyms, and this author identified himself only as “Mr. B.” He dismissed the entire pursuit of botany as “the least useful of all the branches of learning, a mere science of hard words,” with its “monogynia and pentagynia and pistilla and stamina. . . .” But Mr. B. saved his most lacerating language for the garden itself. “I have been as anxious as yourself,” he wrote his friend,

  to know something of this great object of national concern . . . you may readily imagine that I expected to find something, if not rivalling, at least not inferior to, what you and I have witnessed in Europe. I was prepared to see a garden possessing all the various exotics of the celebrated Jardin national des plantes, and outstripping in the splendor of its disposition the Thuilleries, the Champs Elisees, the Bois-de-Boulogne, of France, and Hyde Park and Kensington, of England. My fancy pictured to me something very magnificent. I imagined an entrance of massive gates, crowned with crouching lions; winding woods whose recesses were adorned with winged Mercuries, Cupids, Naiads and timid Fauns. I fancied grottos, and knolls, and mossy caverns, and irriguous fountains, and dolphins vomiting forth huge cascades, and griffons, and chateaus. . . . Thus I was musing, as we passed along what is called the middle or New Boston road, when Mr. W. suddenly roused me with “Here’s Elgin.” I looked around me, but saw no Elgin. . . . It is impossible for me, my dear friend, to describe to you my sensations, when assured that what I saw, was the Botanic Garden. . . . My sensations were indescribable, tumbled as I was in a moment from the very acme of ardent expectation, into the Trophonian abyss of disappointment. I did not know whether to vent my execrations, or my laughter. There never was in the world, such a piece of downright imposture as this Botanic Garden, or as it is dignifiedly called Elgin. Take away from it, the “Orangerie” or Greenhouse, which stands at the remote end of it, and it looks more like one of those large pasture-grounds near Albany, in which the western drovers refresh their cattle, after a sweaty march, than a Botanic Garden.

  Now an Albany resident calling himself “Mr. D.” rushed to Hosack’s defense, attacking Mr. B. as an ignorant fool. “If Linnaeus were to rise from his grave, with what pity would he view your diatribe against botany, and your unjust attack upon his nomenclature! . . . If you had lived and written in the time of Kalm, you would have been represented by him in his correspondence with Linnaeus as a monstrum Americanum, the upper part man and the lower part beast, combining the most cultivated mind, with the most Gothic hostility to science.” Mr. D. knew Mr. B. personally, he said, and he was mortified to realize the true depths of Mr. B.’s ignorance. “Jet d’eaus, artificial cascades, purling streams, mossy caverns, porticos, knolls, grottos, griffons and dolphins vomiting forth water, are foreign from the nature of a Botanic establishment; and however pleasant they may be at a gentleman’s country seat, or in a pleasure garden, yet surely nothing is more ridiculous than to require them in a scientific institution.”

  Mr. D. also informed Mr. B. that, as it happened, he was old enough to have had the privilege of botanizing in his youth with Kalm during the latter’s Albany visit sixty years earlier. Mr. D. could still recall “the animated pleasures which glistened in the eyes of that great man, when he discovered a new plant,” and he also remembered how Kalm had predicted that “America contained more vegetable riches than Europe” and “New York alone has at least 2000.” Hosack had acted on that botanical promise with greater vigor and vision than almost anyone before him. What he had accomplished at the Elgin Botanic Garden was astounding. When Mr. D. had visited there he found “the greatest collection of valuable vegetables [that is, plants] which I ever witnessed; and whether there were knolls or grottos, I did not indeed take the trouble to inquire; for which sin of omission I must most humbly crave your indulgence.” He shuddered at the thought that men as uninformed as Mr. B. held any sway over the future of American science.

  At the Capitol in Albany, the Senate debated the merits of the Elgin Botanic Garden on and off for a week. Then, on February 20, DeWitt Clinton took the floor. A physically imposing man his whole adult life, he was now in his prime. He carried himself with such hauteur that his opponents had nicknamed him the Great Apollo. In some circles, men had started to consider him a promising candidate for president.

  The Elgin Botanic Garden as it appeared around 1810

  Clinton began his remarks in the Senate that day by lecturing his fellow senators on the history of European botany, and then he lectured them on the history of North American botany. He mentioned the most famous botanists who had traveled and collected in America, and some of the more obscure, too—“Colden, Cutler, Belknap, the Bartrams, Muhlenberg, the Michauxs, Barton, and others.” He talked about how critical the study of plants was to American progress in medicine, agriculture, and commerce, and finally he closed with a passionate plea for Elgin. The state should purchase the garden. The lawmakers would not only improve the state’s medical schools, they would also burnish the intellectual reputation of the entire nation. Hosack confessed to a friend afterward that although he didn’t much agree with Clinton’s politics, he was deeply moved by his friend’s devotion to the cause of natural history.

  Two days after Clinton’s speech, a clerk walked next door to the Assembly chamber to deliver the news. The Elgin act had passed the Senate. In the Assembly, a lawmaker by the name of Pratt now tried to block consideration of the bill until after the plant collections and the land could be appraised. But Hosack had loyal allies here, too. Among those leading the charge for Elgin in the Assembly was his friend Mitchill, whose political career had him alternating between federal and state offices.

  On March 9, 1810, the assemblymen took a vote on the bill: fifty-seven to forty-two. They sent a clerk back next door to tell the senators. Elgin would survive. Three days later, the act became law. Five managers—one of them Mitchill—were appointed to take charge of organizing a public lottery to raise money for the purchase of the garden from Hosack. The news of Hosack’s victory raced south from Albany to New York City.

  * Kalm loved botanizing in the countryside around Albany, which was full of apple trees and red maples. He also kept track of the fauna he encountered on his travels, noting, “The porpesses seldom go higher up the river Hudson than the salt water goes; after that, the sturgeons fill their place. It has sometimes happened, that porpesses have gone quite up to Albany. There is a report, that a whale once came up the river quite to this town.”

  Chapter 13

  “YOU KNOW, BETTER THAN ANY MAN”

  ROSES BLOOMED ALL AROUND HOSACK AS HE STROLLED through Elgin in the summer of 1810. There were roses from the Carolinas, Spain, Provence, China, and the farthest reaches of Russia. Their delicate pinks and deep reds accented the flower beds and their velvety petals fell on the hothouse floors. The garden looked especially beautiful to Hosack that summer. He observed with satisfaction that his property was clearer of weeds than the neighboring farms, thanks to a British technique that involved sowing twenty pounds of clover seed per acre of grass. A huge old oak stood in the middle of Elgin’s smooth lawns. Here and there, winding paths led through thickets of flowering shrubbery, and as he walked along them he saw an ever-shifting composition of texture
s and colors.

  Hosack was in high spirits. The state appraisers had just submitted their estimate for the garden, suggesting $103,137 (about $2 million today) as a reasonable payment to him. He calculated that he had spent more than that on the land, labor, gardening supplies, plant collecting, buildings, and interest payments on his mortgage—but not so much more that he found the appraisal upsetting. When he subtracted the appraisers’ estimate for the buildings, fences, and other improvements, and then divided the remainder by his twenty acres, he found the appraisers’ offer per acre was a robust $3,700 (about $75,000 in today’s dollars). After a decade of uncertainty, the next steps unfolded before him with perfect clarity. The state would take ownership of the garden soon, and the lottery would be drawn, after which they would pay Hosack the agreed-upon amount. In the meantime he would continue to oversee the garden, exchange specimens with his botanical contacts, and conduct research with his students. Then, when the state had paid him, Hosack would hand the reins to a talented plantsman chosen on his recommendation. The garden would be a fully public institution, its scientific research programs assured by an enlightened government for the benefit of his own and future generations.

  Hosack would be handing over a stunning botanical collection. He had gathered hundreds of additional specimens since publishing his first Elgin catalogue in 1806. There were a dozen new species of rose alone, but they were just the beginning. When he walked through the conservatory now, he passed a dark flowering catchfly (Silene ornata) from the Cape of Good Hope and a honey locust tree (Gleditsia sinensis) from China. He was growing rare plants found by the Bartrams and André Michaux in the American South, including yellow-flowered anise (Illicium parviflorum) from Florida and the red side-saddle flower (Sarracenia psittacina) from the Carolinas, also called pitcherplant.

  Perhaps Alexander von Humboldt had made good on his earlier offer to send specimens, for Hosack had a strange plant with spotted, heart-shaped leaves that Humboldt and his friend Aimé Bonpland had found in Mexico and named Smilax cordifolia. In the hothouses were two more species that Humboldt and Bonpland had named: a sarsaparilla they called Smilax syphilitica and another plant they called Inga microphylla, both from South America. Hosack had four different species of passionflower (Passiflora) and a bird-of-paradise (Strelitzia reginae). There was a date palm (Phoenix dactylifera) from Syria, a banana tree (Musa sapientum) from the West Indies, and a breadfruit tree (Artocarpus incisa) from the South Sea islands. Hosack also had a West Indian plant called Tephrosia toxicaria that had the power to paralyze fish.

  Outside the conservatory, Hosack’s arboretum was flourishing along the perimeter of the property. He had planted new species of oaks, firs, spruces, pines, alders, birches, and elms; among these trees were many whose names the botanical world owed to his friend François André Michaux, including two from the Juglans (walnut) genus. Meanwhile, in Elgin’s agricultural fields, Hosack had added many dozens of species of grasses and grains, such as buckwheat, oats, wheat, fescue, and sedge. In a pond on the property he was cultivating water lilies, marsh grasses, and water eryngo (Eryngium aquaticum), a medicinal plant that the Cherokee and other native peoples used as an antidote to poisonous snakebites.

  Hosack had dreamed of making Elgin a source for plant-based remedies that American doctors were otherwise forced to import. He now had licorice root (Glycyrrhiza glabra), a staple medicine he had bought at an import shop on Maiden Lane when he set up his own medical practice in the 1790s. He had his own source for camphor, as well—his Laurus camphora tree, which had come to him from Japan. He had a gum arabic tree (Acacia nilotica) from Egypt, four new species of aloe from the Cape of Good Hope, turmeric (Curcuma longa) from the East Indies, and a balsam tree (Copaifera officinalis) from South America. He had also amassed more medicinal species native to North America. They grew in his outdoor beds, in his greenhouse and hothouses, and in his arboretum. He had a prickly ash (Zanthoxylum fraxineum), sometimes called toothache tree, whose bark when chewed was thought to alleviate toothaches. He had three species of clubmoss (Lycopodium), whose water-repellent spores were used by physicians and pharmacists for coating pills. Hosack and his students conducted chemical experiments on the Elgin collections—boiling down roots and leaves, subjecting the resulting liquids to different chemicals, and noting their reactions in an effort to compare medicinal properties. They hadn’t made any dramatic discoveries thus far, but they were making progress in mapping the chemical similarities and differences among certain species. Even going down dead ends contributed to the sum of scientific knowledge. Across the United States and Europe people were increasingly rewarding Hosack with praise and respect. Naturalists consulted him, doctors followed his research, and European visitors made sure to include a tour of Elgin on their itineraries. When Hosack stood on his hilltop at Elgin now, he was surrounded by the garden of his dreams.

  ON JULY 20, 1810, Mitchill sent Hosack a plant specimen and asked for his help identifying it. Hosack wrote back the next day to say it was Canada thistle (Cnicus arvensis), adding that he had learned from Curtis that farmers called it “cursed thistle” because of its nasty habit of invading their fields. Two days later, Mitchill and his wife arranged to meet Hosack and Mary at Elgin so they could show some visiting British friends around the garden. The artists James and Ellen Sharples were well known in the United States. On a visit in the 1790s, they had done portraits of Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Hamilton, and Burr, among others. Now they had returned to secure new commissions, visit old friends, and see how the country had changed in their absence. Mitchill felt it was important that Elgin be on their itinerary. Although James Sharples was on a trip upstate, Ellen Sharples and her daughter rode to Elgin with the Mitchills in their carriage. As they strolled through the garden, Ellen was especially intrigued by the rare plants and beautiful blooms Hosack showed them.

  The Mitchills also took the Sharpleses on a ferryboat across the Hudson to the Palisades, where they climbed the rocks and picnicked. At the summit they were rewarded with a striking view across the river toward Elgin and the surrounding countryside—although when Ellen looked straight down, she shivered “at the idea of being precipitated,” as she noted in her diary. They then wound their way back down to the river, where they hired a boat to take them to another spot on the shore. They had climbed partway up the hillside, Ellen later noted in her journal, when they found what they were looking for: “The neat elegant monument of white marble is placed on the spot where the General fell, at the foot of stupendous rocks.” A Latin inscription had been etched into the marble.

  Incorrupta Fides, nudaque Veritas,

  Quando ullam invenient parem?

  Multis ille quidem flebilis occidit.

  These were the very lines from Horace that Hosack had quoted in his account of Hamilton’s death. The monument to Hamilton, in the form of a fourteen-foot obelisk, had been erected by the New York chapter of the St. Andrew’s Society, a fraternal group founded in the 1750s for the benefit of New Yorkers of Scottish descent. Hosack was a member and later a vice president. Given Hosack’s intimate connection with the duel, the Horace inscription, and his St. Andrew’s membership, he may well have been instrumental in having the monument placed to honor Hamilton.*

  Burr, meanwhile, was still trying to stay in touch with Hosack from Europe, writing in March 1810 to a mutual friend, “Tell Dr. Hosack that I wish to hear from him.” As Burr waited for news of Theo and word that he might safely return to the United States, he made the most of his time in Paris.† He went to the Paris Opera and the Comédie-Française. He rambled along the quais of the Seine and browsed through the stalls looking for books to send Theo. He went for walks in the great pleasure gardens of the city—the Luxembourg Gardens, the Palais-Royal, and the Tuileries. At the Palace of Versailles outside Paris, he found the royal gardens laid out “in a style of magnificence surpassing anything I have seen.”

  The Jardin des Plantes in Paris as it appeared not long before Burr�
��s visit

  Burr toured the scientific collections at the Jardin des Plantes, seeking out François André Michaux to talk about botany. Michaux was completing his North American Sylva at the moment, and Burr noted in his journal that the work would show that “we (not the whole continent, but the United States alone) have three times the number of useful trees that Europe can boast.” On one occasion Burr went to Michaux’s house, hoping “to ascertain the identity of a plant and a tree, both vaunted in medicine.” Burr didn’t record the names of these species, but he did report that “Mr. M. gave me the most perfect satisfaction.”

  In December 1810, Burr wrote to Hosack from Paris to ask a botanical favor. A French friend had requested Burr’s help in procuring a long list of plants from America, and the latter had naturally thought of Hosack. Burr told Hosack, “You know, better than any man” how to track down the specimens. The request had come from Étienne Calmelet, a close friend of Empress Josephine. Burr explained to Hosack he realized that “most probably not one of the articles will be found with any ‘marchand de greens’ in America.” Fulfilling Calmelet’s entire order, Burr conjectured, “would require to open a correspondence with perhaps fifty persons in different parts of the continent, and to pursue the thing for years.” Burr didn’t expect Hosack to undertake all this work, but he did express hope that some of the plants might already be growing at Elgin.