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Obituary.
Karl Ritter von Goebel (1855–1932).
Although it will be many years before the New Zealand Institute can claim equality with the great academies of the world, in one respect it can vie with the best of them: in its long roll of honorary members. Indeed the list includes many of the greatest names in science of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Among such names, that of von Goebel comes into the small band of the truly illustrious. It is not my intention here to say much concerning the work achieved and the honours won by the great botanist; these have been reviewed in the leading scientific journals of the world, and the general reader may be referred to the admirable and generous account by Professor F. O. Bower in Nature, October 29, 1932.
Rather, I confine my remarks to some of the doings of von Goebel when he visited this country in November and December, 1898, and to my impressions of him both as botanist and man, formed during the inspiring botanical excursion I had the extreme honour to make with him in that interesting country traversed by the famous “West Coast Road.” Also he—to the great pleasure of my wife and myself—made our home at New Brighton his headquarters during his stay in Canterbury.
May I say at once that I look on von Goebel as the greatest botanist of the last fifty years, and among the very first of the few who have stamped their names indelibly on botanical science by means of fundamental discoveries. As a young man he found plant morphology a formal and uninspiring branch of the science, but as early as the date of his Australasian tour he had made it a living thing, based not on mere classification and theoretical conjectures, but on a wealth of experiment carried out mainly by himself, and on the all-important field observations he had made in the Venezuelan Andes, the Malayan Islands, Ceylon, and Europe in general. The chief innovation of his studies was that he dealt with plant forms not as forms merely, but in relation to their environment, and such forms he deemed not mere members of the plant body, but organs.
At the time of von Goebel's visit I was attempting to shed some light on the causes which have led to seedlings differing from adults, and in my little greenhouse had dozens of flower-pots containing seedlings of many species of New Zealand plants grown from seed the origin of which was definitely known. Into this little house I conducted him on the day of his arrival, and this raising of seedlings—a work after von Goebel's own heart—led him to consider me a botanist, and formed the beginning of a true friendship which endured to the day of his lamentable decease. Perhaps that which interested him most was a simple experiment—the growing of a juvenile plant of “wild Irishman” (Discaria toumatou) in moist air under a bell-glass, the spines being suppressed and only leafy shoots produced. In my garden itself were herbaceous perennials from many lands, and with hardly an exception von Goebel not only
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knew their names, but could tell a great deal about them, a circumstance which surprises me more now than it did then, since I have met many botanists who know little or nothing about gardens and their contents.
During our mountain excursion we travelled along the West Coast Road by coach, staying in the first place for some days at the Castle Hill Hotel, since burnt down. Amongst other things the notable visitor desired greatly to procure a “vegetable sheep” (Raoulia eximia) of goodly size for his museum, and to take a part in its capture. Mr. W. Cloudesly, proprietor of the hotel, his son, and a gay Irish “new chum” volunteered to do the hard work—the digging up of the sheep and its carrying down the steep mountain slopes with their insecure footing. The party ascended Mount Torlesse by way of the Dry River, and at an altitude of about 5000 feet a large flock of the sheep was encountered. The accompanying photograph shows the specimen as it arrived at the hotel, but better still on the left of the picture is von Goebel himself, with a “lamb” on his shoulder.
Although the botanist was intensely interested in all the indigenous spermophytes and pteridophytes he saw, and especially with their varied forms, he was still more interested in their lowly relations, the liverworts—a family which he explained were of especial morphological interest, since their simple structure and their multiplicity of forms made them ideal for experimental morphology. It was in a moist gully at the base of the Mount Alexander massif in Westland, crowded with liverworts of every shape and size (many being giants of the family), that von Goebel's delight rose to the highest pitch. “Here,” he cried, “were it possible for me, I would build a cottage and spend the rest of my life studying the bryophytes in this gully.” There is no such remarkable gully in the Wellington Open Air Museum, but one have I selected which may serve to perpetuate in this country his honoured name. Later I was able to forward by parcel post many tins of our liverworts to Munich, where they were well cared for, grew vigorously, and became a source of great interest, as well as being useful both for experimental and teaching purposes.
Speaking of teaching, I questioned von Goebel regarding his lectures, and he informed me that the courses he gave were principally for junior students, and, if I remember rightly, commenced at 7 a.m. He also explained that, where possible, material for illustrating lectures should be of large size. So, for this purpose, he took with him from the New Brighton Beach a huge example of the great seaweed, Macrosystis pyrifera. At the head of the Otira Gorge, where we camped for some days, he collected the giant moss Polytrichum dendroides, saying he wished to carry out a little experiment as to the power of its vessels to conduct water to the leaves. In the small room to the right of the old biological laboratory at Canterbury College the experiment was carried out. Professor Dendy was asked for various stains, none of which he possessed, so the experimenter said: “We will use ink,” and ink he did use. Seated on a
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low stool, smoking a huge cigar, a small towel on his knees, with a razor in the right hand, he carried all out in the twinkling of an eye. But space is lacking for any more details regarding that, to me, most wonderful excursion.
As for the man—he was then forty-three years of age (one month older than myself). He was over six feet in height, stoutly built, his forehead high and broad, his face strong but gentle, and his hair and beard light brown, as became a South German. Full of scientific energy to his finger-tips, no time did he waste, but nevertheless a strong sense of humour was with him always. His disposition was of exceeding kindness, his learning most profound, his memory astonishing, especially regarding botanical literature in general, and withal he was modest to a fault. He spoke many European languages, and could read still more. He was widely read in literature generally, and loved and understood music. In that great monument which he created for himself, the three editions of his Organographie der Pflanzen (only the first edition is translated into English, so much is lost to the average English student), there is much that concerns New Zealand botanists, for example after example is given of New Zealand forms; in fact our flora gets more than its share of notice. As for the work itself, its author considered it would never be widely read, especially in these days when physiology dominates the botanical curriculum; but in a recent letter to me he prophesied that this state of affairs would end before long, and morphology once again come into its rightful place.
To me von Goebel's visit was the greatest scientific stimulus to my botanical career, such as it has been. Never before had I understood what a truly great man really was, and to be in the company of such in the field day by day is education of the highest order. Nor is this all, for to my immense advantage we were in close correspondence for thirty-three years (really our first letters dated from the early 'nineties, at which time he sent me his wonderful Biologische Schilderungen), and I was encouraged to come to him for advice at all times.
New Zealand has benefited from the visits of many scientific men, but, if Sir Joseph Hooker be excepted, no visiting botanist will have exercised a more enduring influence upon the study of our plants, in which morphology stands supreme, than von Goebel. For surely in this land of ours, where Nature has worked undisturbed century by century, the study of epharmony, that is, of open-air morphology, should be the chief concern of the field botanist for many years to come.
L. Cockayne
.Ngaio, January 28, 1933.
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