Bartram's Mountain Magnolia

Robert Zahner

The endemic Fraser magnolia of our southern mountains was named in 1788 in honor of John Fraser, a British publisher of botanicals, who collected plants in eastern America after the Revolutionary War. The naming of this beautiful tree has been an enigma for naturalists, especially for admirers of William Bartram, for perhaps 200 years. Legends have developed that imply, or even boldly assume, that John Fraser pirated from William Bartram the credit for discovering this magnolia. I have wondered about this question myself for many years. Lately I have done some investigative inquiry, and learned some new facts that only deepen the mystery. Here is my report. It begins on the southwestern slopes of Rabun Bald Mountain, just northeast of Clayton, Georgia.

William Bartram discovered his “mountain magnolia” in north Georgia in May, 1775, thirteen years before this species was named Magnolia fraseri, on his only journey into the southern Appalachians. In his Travels Bartram gives a detailed description of his discovery of this new species, which he tentatively named “Magnolia auriculata,” Latin for the ear lobes or lappets at the base of the leaf blades.

On this day Bartram was traveling northwest on the well worn trail from the abandoned Cherokee town of Keowee, over the mountains into the headwaters of the Little Tennessee River (Bartram’s “Tanase” River). En route he had seen many specimens of the magnolia, in full bloom, but it was not until he reached today’s Courthouse Gap that he stopped to study these trees. Bartram named the nearby mountain “Mount Magnolia” (today’s Pinnacle Knob). Francis Harper describes and interprets Bartram’s discovery, which Harper places near the cascades on today’s Martin Creek.

Twenty years ago I retraced this route when researching the journey of another early botanical explorer, the Frenchman Andre Michaux. The old trail through the gap is still discernible. Michaux himself plays an important role in my investigation below.

I must digress here to give some botanical protocol on “discovering” and “naming” plants. Many plants, most perhaps, are well known by local people and given colloquial names long before they are “discovered” by botanists. Cherokee Indians, early Spanish and English traders and explorers in Cherokee country had traveled these mountain trails for decades before Bartram. Certainly as they encountered unusual plants, such as the beautiful magnolia trees, they gave them names. Some have become our local common names, but in the case of the magnolia we have no record of an early name.

In the science of taxonomy, until a plant has been described botanically and given a scientific name it is considered undiscovered. Floral and vegetative characteristics are usually filed in an herbarium, and a proposed botanical name is published in a scientific paper, with the date and field location of the “type” specimen. The person naming the plant is the “authority,” often today the same person as the “discoverer.”

However, in the mid 18th century the authority had to have European validation, with the direct or indirect approval of Linnaean scholars for proposed binomial Latin names. This requirement became a frustrating obstacle for William Bartram, as I will explain, but not for John Fraser. After Linnaeus’ death in 1778 the protocol for naming plants was gradually eased, so that by the end of the century Americans could publish their own descriptions. However, as we will see, this was too late for Bartram’s collection.

In the case of Magnolia fraseri, the authority is one Thomas Walter, not the discoverer John Fraser. The plant name and description were published in London in 1788. The type specimen is today in the British Museum of Natural History, collected by John Fraser in 1787, twelve years after Bartram’s discovery, and the type location is apparently unknown. Why is Walter the authority? Did Fraser or Walter know of Bartram’s prior discovery? Why did Bartram delay documentation of his discovery? Where is the type location for the Walter/Fraser tree? These are questions that have led to the myth that Fraser and Walter might have plagiarized Bartram’s authority.

Now, back to William Bartram. On his return to Philadelphia in 1776 Bartram certainly intended to publish descriptions of the many new plants that he had collected during his three year journey through the South. Among these was his Magnolia auriculata. The embargo of the Revolutionary War obviously delayed these publications, but by 1781 Bartram had completed his manuscript with descriptions of his new plant discoveries. He had previously shipped his carefully prepared and packed herbarium specimens to Dr. John Fothergill in London for publication, as required by the standards of the time.

However, Fothergill died in 1780 before he could unpack Bartram’s herbarium, which then became part of Fothergill’s famous herbarium which was purchased in turn by Sir Joseph Banks, of the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew. Banks passed Bartram’s request on to his botanical curator, Daniel Solander, a Linnaean trainee, to supply Bartram with his long awaited names and accurate descriptions of his new species. However, both Banks and Solander were absorbed at the time in describing the thousands of new plants from Captain James Cook’s famous voyage, and when Solander died in 1782, Bartram’s collection lay still unpacked in Banks’ herbarium. There the dried plants lay tied in bundles for another 38 years! The specimens of Bartram’s proposed Magnolia auriculata were finally transferred with his entire collection to the British Museum in 1820 where they reside today. William Bartram’s Travels was finally published in 1791, but his “mountain magnolia” had already been published as “Fraser’s magnolia.” Harper makes clear that plantsmen of the 1780s knew of Bartram’s large collection of plants new to science, including a 1783 advertisement by a Philadelphia publisher stating that Bartram had “a catalog of near one hundred American trees and shrubs of which have never yet been described.” Thus by the early 1780s Bartram’s discovery of Magnolia auriculata was known in America.

Enter John Fraser, British plant collector, botanical explorer, publisher in London of botanicals, and self taught botanist. Fraser made many collecting trips to eastern North America, the first in 1784, nine years after Bartram’s travels in the South. Over the next 20 years he introduced into England more than 200 species of American plants, especially flowering trees and shrubs, gaining a glowing reputation as a “zealous and indefatigable collector of plants.” Fraser’s collecting in America was in reality a business venture, his collections destined for sale in his nursery and other commercial outlets in England.

Biographers and modern natural history writers in America portray mixed characterizations of John Fraser. Apparently there is a general impression that Fraser’s botanical competence was not on a par with his contemporaries. He has been called a botanical entrepreneur and an insufferable egotist. Fraser himself reveals something of his ego, stating his determination to excel the French botanist Andre Michaux in plant discoveries, thus obtaining equal honors for Great Britain.

Although most of Fraser’s collecting in America was after 1789, I am concerned here with his earlier visit in 1786-87, to South Carolina. On this trip Fraser met and befriended Thomas Walter, another self taught botanist and plant collector, who was in the process of compiling an extensive flora of the native plants near his home north of Charleston. Rembert suggests that Walter was stimulated into the publication of his flora by John Fraser, the publisher of botanicals, who contracted with Walter to accomplish this.

Thomas Walter evidently agreed to include in his proposed flora any plants that Fraser might collect in his travels throughout the Carolinas. Fraser reported that Walter had collected and described 640 species from coastal South Carolina, and that in this number 200 species were new to science. In Fraser’s collecting trips he claimed to have increased this number to 1060, adding that many were new to science. Included in this latter number was our controversial magnolia. The combined collections and plant descriptions of the two botanists became the manuscript for Walter’s Flora Caroliniana, which Fraser took to London and published in 1788.

Although John Fraser kept no field journal, in a brief account of his 1787 collecting trip, he asserts that there is not a person on the face of the earth, but himself, who knows the particular spots where his collection grows. Thus we have to do a little speculating in order to pinpoint the location of the type specimen of Fraser’s magnolia.

It was during this 1786-87 visit to South Carolina that John Fraser made an acquaintance with Andre Michaux in Charleston, and the two men met infrequently over a period of six months. In the spring of 1787 Fraser proposed to accompany the Frenchman on a botanizing trip into the North Carolina mountains.

The two men traveled together for about a month in May, 1787. What conversations did the two botanists have while acquaintances in Charleston, and later in close proximity, for so long a time on their expedition? The mission of both was the same, to collect unusual plants for shipment to Europe. What would you talk about? Perhaps the best route to take into the mountains? Perhaps the possibility of encountering unusual plants? Perhaps previous botanizing in this region by others? Recently discovered documents give us important clues for answers.

There is new evidence that Andre Michaux visited William Bartram in Philadelphia on at least two occasions in 1786. The dates of these visits are crucial for my discussions that follow, as both occurred before his encounter with John Fraser in South Carolina. The American Philosophical Society in Philadelphia has documents on microfilm dated April 1, 1787, in Michaux’s handwriting stating that he visited Bartram’s garden between June 5 and 11, 1786, and again on September 2, 1786. On these visits with William Bartram there is no question that Michaux learned of Bartram’s discovery of the magnolia, as he states in a later journal entry, in December, 1788, “...je reconnus le Magnolia qui a ete nomme montana M. auriculata par Bartram.”

Now I will speculate on plausible conversations between Bartram and Michaux. Learning of Michaux’s plans to explore and collect plants in the Carolina mountains, Bartram in all probability suggested the most feasible route from Charleston into the mountains, the well traveled Cherokee Trail. As mentioned above it was on this trail, near Pinnacle Knob in north Georgia, that Bartram had described his mountain magnolia 12 years previously. It is plausible that it was in conversation with Michaux regarding this route, that Bartram related his discovery of the new species of magnolia, a beautiful tree with cream colored flowers, well worth collecting seed and seedlings for shipment to France. Was this information passed on from Michaux to Fraser? Because it is so very rational, I am tempted to say, “Probably.”

But the two men were not compatible companions. One of Fraser’s more telling personality indictments comes from Michaux himself, in a well documented incident during the time Fraser accompanied Michaux on this 1787 exploration into the mountains. Michaux notes in his journal on May 29th that he found Fraser a superficial bore and that after some time he managed to escape from Fraser’s “irritating chatter and foolish questions.” Peattie makes scathing, albeit amusing, comments on this encounter between Michaux and Fraser, concluding that Fraser “intended that Louis XVI should have no flowers of which George III was deprived.”

It was at a point in South Carolina near Augusta that Fraser and Michaux parted company. Michaux was delayed for several days by the theft of his horses, and presumably Fraser continued on the main trail into north Georgia. Notwithstanding the personality disparity between the two men, which emerged on the trail, it is very likely that over the six months of their acquaintance Michaux described to Fraser Bartram’s discovery of the magnolia, as a beautiful flowering plant to export to England. Even though they were on similar missions in America, from Michaux’s perspective they were not in competition. Fraser, however, was highly competitive, hoping to establish a lucrative business importing plants in England. He would certainly have probed the Frenchman concerning any interesting plants he would likely encounter in the mountains.

Fraser, now traveling alone, would have crossed the Chattooga River in early June, 1787, and continued on up to the pass at Courthouse Gap. Like Bartram 12 years before, he had been passing many specimens of the magnolia, although at that elevation none would still be in flower and fruits would be setting. Like Bartram before him, Fraser likely wrote his description of the species soon after encountering it, and collected fruits and leaf samples. At some point on this journey, probably on his return later that summer when the fruits were mature, Fraser collected seeds and dug many seedling specimens of the magnolia for shipment to England.

Fraser returned in late summer to the home of his new friend Thomas Walter. The two men quickly completed the manuscript for the Flora (written entirely in Latin), prepared descriptions of the many new plants, packaged many live plants for the ocean voyage, and had it all ready for shipment when Fraser left for England in October of that year, 1787. Fraser had not seen flowers of the new magnolia. At least five of the magnolia seedlings made the voyage safely and were sold in England. Many dried specimens, presumably of the leaves, were also sold.

Fraser arrived in England in March, 1788, and in four months he had published Walter’s Flora Caroliniana, a remarkable 263 page volume. Six months later, in early 1789, Thomas Walter died suddenly at his home in South Carolina, without having seen his published Flora.

Walter had not seen the magnolia in its native habitat, nor for that matter, any of Fraser’s hundreds of other species. Fraser himself must have written the descriptions of the plants he collected, and no doubt helped Walter with the Latin names assigned to them. We must remember that Fraser was in effect the co-author of the book. As editor and publisher of the Flora, Fraser called attention to himself by featuring a drawing of the unusual leaves and fruit of Magnolia fraseri in the place of honor in the Flora, as the frontispiece.

It has been understood by plant scholars since the publication of the Flora that Walter named the magnolia in honor of his new friend. This transaction had to have been agreed upon in South Carolina before Fraser departed with the manuscript. Rembert presents Thomas Walter as an honest and industrious citizen scientist, who obviously did not know of Bartram’s prior discovery of the magnolia.

There is no evidence that John Fraser ever met William Bartram. It is strange that in a decade of plant explorations in America, Fraser never visited the Bartrams’ well known garden in Philadelphia. William Bartram, and his father John, were the premier plantsmen of the Americas in the second half the 18th century. The Bartrams were visited often and consulted by other visiting Europeans. Fraser’s behavior is certainly not consistent with his mission in America.

Fraser claimed many of his plants as “new,” a term that Hooker continued to use 40 years later, when it was known that they were not new to science. For example, in England Fraser was credited with discovering Azalea arborescens, A. calendulacea, Betula lutea, Rhododendron catawbiense, and R. punctatum, all of which were actually Michaux discoveries. It is evident that by “new,” Fraser and Hooker meant previously unknown horticultural introductions for England.

Hooker relates an interesting account of Fraser’s 1799 “discovery” of the Catawba rhododendron, an account that had to originate with Fraser himself: “On the summit of the Great Roa [Roan Mountain] which divides the eastern from the western waters, on a spot which commands a view of five states, . . . it was Mr. Fraser’s good fortune to discover . . . the new and splendid Rhododendron catawbiense . . .”

As author of the Flora, Walter was assumed to be the authority for those plants that were considered new to science at the time. Today the names of 88 species described by Walter in his Flora are still valid, including the Magnolia fraseri. Of the hundreds of new (to England?) plants claimed by Fraser to have been collected on his 1787 trip into the mountains, the only other species (genus, as it turned out) that was new to science was also named for Fraser by Walter, the rare columbo, Frasera carolinensis.

It is curious that Fraser did not choose to be the authority for any of his collection. He was a relatively young professional (age 38 at the time), and as we have seen, certainly ambitious and eager to make a name for himself. Having plants named for him by others was considered more prestigious, which conforms with what we know of Fraser’s ego. More likely, Fraser did not collect many plants that were in fact new to science. Several species other than the magnolia and the columbo have been named in his honor: the Fraser fir, Abies fraseri, Fraser’s sedge, Cymophyllus fraseri, and the rare Lysimachia fraseri, all native to our southern Appalachians. The fir was named by Frederick Pursh, the sedge by Antoni Andrzejowski, and the Lysimachia by Jean Duby, all some years after Fraser’s death. As was popular in the 19th century, plants were often named to honor contributors to plant science, not necessarily the discoverers.

John Fraser is not listed in Radford, et. al., as having described and named any plant in the southeastern United States, nor in Asa Grey’s Manual of Botany for eastern North America. Thus apparently Fraser never found many plants that were new to science, as we can anticipate from comments written by Andre Michaux in his journal after they parted ways in 1787: “Fraser proved to have small knowledge of natural history and insisted on loading the party down with great quantities of common plants of little value, all the while wasting precious time on trifles.”

After the publication of Walter’s Flora, Fraser returned to America four times until his health failed following a horse fall, about 1810. He died in 1811. For over two decades John Fraser was renowned in Great Britain as an indefatigable collector and importer of plants. His early ambition to equal Andre Michaux was fulfilled. Sargent writes, “The value of his [Fraser’s] contributions to English gardens has, perhaps, never been surpassed by those of any botanical traveler.”

In the 18th and 19th centuries there was a great demand in England for exotic plants. John Fraser was eager to establish a name for himself, his nursery, and his publishing business by introducing American plants into the elite English horticultural circles and estate gardens. Among his other earliest introductions, Fraser’s new magnolia seedlings, and even his dried specimens, received much publicity in British horticultural circles.

So where does my investigation of the Fraser/Bartram magnolia enigma leave us? I believe my reporting here of probable conversations between Andre Michaux and John Fraser is the first to document a pathway by which Fraser could have learned of Bartram’s prior discovery. Until now, I don’t believe this evidence has entered the piracy myth. This fact adds fuel to the controversy, of course, and I admit that I am now inclined to believe that Fraser did in fact act selfishly.

I believe it has been Fraser’s annoying egotism, a reputation nourished by many writers, that has created the assumption that surely he knew of and ignored William Bartram’s plant discoveries. There is ample historical record that Fraser was desperate for recognition, leading to the supposition that he rushed into print with the magnolia. To me the question of why Fraser never visited Bartram also says something questionable about his character. Was he too insecure to meet with the American authority?

Although in America there has not been the reverence for John Fraser that developed in England, even we Bartram partisans should recognize Fraser’s accomplishments, which escalated after 1788. He obviously matured over the years following his 1786-87 encounter with Andre Michaux. When the two men met again in 1791, Michaux himself comments that Fraser was more congenial. It seems that Fraser’s timely acquaintance with Thomas Walter was pivotal in his career, as the publication of the Flora gained his much sought reputation among his English peers.

Although I consider this investigation interesting, and I learned new details that strengthen the old myth, my report reaches no firm conclusion. There will still be those who speculate about taxonomic shenanigans. However, it was European taxonomic protocol that thwarted the documentation of the authentic discovery of Bartram’s mountain magnolia. John Fraser had nothing to do with these frustrating events, and if in truth he knew nothing of Bartram’s prior discovery, Fraser is indeed vindicated. And after all, even if he knew of Bartram’s magnolia, which was unpublished, Fraser (through Water’s Flora) had the right to publish his own discovery, and let Linnaean scholars decide the authority.

“Mountain” magnolia, Bartram’s common name for the Fraser magnolia, and Bartram’s botanical name for the tree, Magnolia auriculata, are both more descriptive and far more elegant than the accepted names. Of the eight species of magnolia in North America, four have auriculate leaves: bigleaf magnolia, pyramid magnolia, Ashe magnolia, and of course, Fraser magnolia. Thus it would be fitting that any of these be named auriculata, although none are. Personally, I take my cue from the naturalists and botanical writers of the early 20th century, who, although stuck with the scientific name of M. fraseri, refer to the tree by its common name as “mountain magnolia.”