Among the manuscripts of Professor Poey, with the title of “Corona Poeyana,” is a list which he is sometimes fond of contemplating, of the species of animals which were first made known by him. This list is a long one, longer perhaps than that of any other zoölogist of our times who has confined his studies to a single fauna.
It is a fashion in some quarters to decry the work of the describer of new fauna. All honest study has its equal place, and, till the pioneer work of exact determination of species is performed, there is little opportunity for the embryologist or the anatomist. It is of little use to record the structure or the development of an animal while the animal itself remains unknown.
There is no characteristic of Professor Poey's work more striking than his entire lack of prejudice, or, in other words, his teachableness. A certain zoölogist was once described to me by Dr. Kirtland as “a little man who couldn't be told anything.” His character was in this regard just the reverse of that of Professor Poey. Among all the eminent zoölogists of our time, I know of none so ready to learn, whatever the source from which information may come. He has no theories which he is not ready to set aside when a better suggestion appears. Unlike some other systematic writers, he exhibits no preference for his own names or subdivisions, but is as ready, if the evidence seems to require it, to smother one of his own species or genera as those of another.
His work shows no sign of falling off in quality. The clearness of his judgment and the accuracy of his memory seem unimpaired. It is difficult in conversing with him to realize that he was born in the last century, and that in his earlier studies he was a cotemporary of Cuvier and Valenciennes, and of Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire. Most men are older at fifty than Poey at eighty-five.
Poey was married in 1825 to María de Jésus Aguirre. He has had six children. Two of his daughters still reside with him at Havana, and their skillful hands have been of great service to him in the preparation of his drawings and manuscripts.
Poey is rather above the medium height, well-formed, and in his younger days he was remarkably active and vigorous. Even yet, time rests lightly on his shoulders. His complexion is fair, and his hair and eyes are not dark. He has little of the appearance of a Spaniard or indeed of any especial nationality. As he himself has said, “Comme naturaliste, je ne suis pas espagnol: je suis cosmopolite.” He is of a happy temperament and has a peculiarly genial and cheery smile. Simple, direct, unaffected, but possessed of a quiet dignity, he is certainly one of the most delightful men I have ever met. Of all men I have known, he has best learned the art of growing old.
