Famous Men of Science

He seemed to have no time to accumulate money. Fortunately, a fund of forty thousand dollars has been raised by friends, the income of which goes to his family during life, and afterwards to the National Academy of Sciences, to be devoted to original research.

In character he was above reproach. He said, "I think that immorality and great mental power exercised in the discovery of scientific truths are incompatible with each other; and that more error is introduced from defect in moral sense than from want of intellectual capacity."

He loved nature. "A life devoted exclusively to the study of a single insect," he said, "is not spent in vain. No animal, however insignificant, is isolated; it forms a part of the great system of nature, and is governed by the same general laws which control the most prominent beings of the organic world." In 1870, when gazing upon the Aar glacier, from the Rhone valley, he exclaimed to his daughter, while the tears coursed down his cheeks: "This is a place to die in. We should go no further." A really great man is never afraid to show that he has a tender heart.

He loved his home. Out from it, in his early married life, two children went by death, and later, an only son in his early manhood. Three daughters were left him. One of them records in her diary: "Had father with us all the evening. I modelled his profile in clay, while he read 'Thomson's Seasons' to us. In the earlier part of the evening he seemed restless and depressed, but the influence of the poet drove away the cloud, and then an expression of almost childlike sweetness rested upon his lips, singularly in contrast, yet beautifully in harmony, with, the intellect of the brow above."

Again she writes: "We were all up until a late hour, reading poetry with father and mother, father being the reader. He attempted 'Cowper's Grave,' by Mrs. Browning, but was too tender-hearted to finish the reading of it. We then laughed over the 'Address to the Mummy,' soared to heaven with Shelley's 'Skylark,' roamed the forest with Bryant, culled flowers from other poetical fields, and ended with 'Tam O'Shanter.' I took for my task to recite a part of the latter from memory, while father corrected, as if he were 'playing schoolmaster.'"

He was orderly and painstaking in his work, deciding with great caution. Prof. Asa Gray tells a story of his boyhood which well illustrates this. "It goes back to the time when he was first allowed to have a pair of boots, and to choose for himself the style of them. He was living with his grandmother, in the country, and the village Crispin could offer no great choice of patterns; indeed, it was narrowed down to the alternative of round toes or square. Daily the boy visited the shop and pondered the alternatives, even while the manufacture was going on, until, at length, the shoemaker, who could brook no more delay, took the dilemma by both horns, and produced the most remarkable pair of boots the wearer ever had; one boot round-toed, the other square-toed… He probably never again postponed decision till it was too late to choose."

A single incident illustrates the kindness of the man, who was always called the "model of a Christian gentleman." "Early in the war, in the autumn of 1861, a caller at the presidential mansion, very anxious to see the chief magistrate of the nation, was informed that he could not then be seen, being engaged in an important private consultation. The caller, not to be repulsed, wrote on a piece of paper that he must see Mr. Lincoln personally, on a matter of vital and pressing importance to the public welfare. This, of course, secured his admission to the presence of Mr. Lincoln, who was sitting with a middle-aged gentleman. Observing the hesitancy of the visitor, the President told him he might speak freely, as only a friend was present.

"Whereupon the visitor announced that for several evenings past he had observed a light exhibited on the highest of the Smithsonian towers, for a few minutes, about nine o'clock, with mysterious movements, which, he felt satisfied, were designed as signals to the rebels encamped on Munson's Hill, in Virginia. Having gravely listened to this information with raised eyebrows, but a subdued twinkle of the eye, the President turned to his companion, saying, 'What do you think of that, Professor Henry?'

"Rising with a smile, the person addressed replied that, from the time mentioned, he presumed the mysterious light shone from the lantern of an attendant who was required at nine o'clock each evening to observe and record the indications of the meteorological instruments placed on the tower. The painful confusion of the officious informant at once appealed to Henry's sensibility, and, quite unmindful of the President, he approached the visitor, offering his hand, and with a courteous regard counselled him never to be abashed at the issue of a conscientious discharge of duty, and never to let the fear of ridicule interfere with its faithful execution."

Henry had learned how to triumph over the misfortunes of life. In 1865, the Smithsonian building was partially burned, with nearly one hundred thousand letters, his notes of original research for thirty years, the annual report in manuscript, ready for the press, a valuable library, etc.

"A few years ago," he said, "such a calamity would have paralyzed me for future efforts, but in my present view of life I take it as the dispensation of a kind and wise Providence, and trust that it will work to my spiritual advantage."

A bronze statue of Joseph Henry, by W. W. Story, costing fifteen thousand dollars, was unveiled in the grounds of the Smithsonian Institution, April 19, 1883. Ten thousand people were assembled to witness the ceremonies. Noah Porter, ex-president of Yale College, delivered the oration. There it will tell the story of a self-made man – of whom Garfield said: "Remembering his great career as a man of science, as a man who served his government with singular ability and faithfulness, who was loved and venerated by every circle, who blessed with the light of his friendship the worthiest and the best, whose life added new lustre to the glory of the human race, we shall be most fortunate if ever in the future we see his like again."

Prof. Joseph Henry was succeeded by Prof. Spencer F. Baird as secretary of the Smithsonian Institution. He died August 19, 1887, and Prof. S. P. Langley was called to the position, accepting the office November 18, 1887. The mantle of Henry has fallen upon a worthy successor; a scholar who has given us, among other works, the "New Astronomy," whose beauty of diction, breadth of knowledge, and exquisite illustrations are so well remembered, as it appeared first in the pages of the Century Magazine.

LOUIS AGASSIZ

In the midst of as beautiful scenery as one finds on earth, snow-white Alps, blue lakes, great fields of purple crocus, and picturesque homes, Jean Louis Rodolphe Agassiz was born at Motier, on Lake Morat, Switzerland, May 28, 1807.

His father, a clergyman, descended from a long line of clergymen, was a gentle but efficient man, universally esteemed. His mother, Rose Mayor, the daughter of a physician on the shore of Lake Neuchâtel, was a woman of strong character and most tender affection. She had buried her first four children; therefore Louis was cared for with unusual solicitude.

Until he was ten years old, he was taught by his parents, and allowed to develop his natural tastes. Possibly his sweetness of disposition resulted, in part, from the wise training of the father and mother. Doubtless as many children are spoiled by undue thwarting and irritating as by over-indulgence. Though Louis met almost unsurmountable obstacles later in life, he was able to rejoice, having enjoyed a sunny childhood. Such a childhood we can give to our children but once.

In a great stone basin back of the parsonage, the boy made his first aquarium. There he gathered fishes, frogs, tadpoles, indeed, everything which he could obtain from Lake Morat. In the house he had pet birds, hares, rabbits, field-mice, with their families, all cared for as though they were royal visitors.

He was skilful as a carpenter and boot-maker. When the village cobbler came to the house, two or three times a year, to make shoes for the family, the lad was quick to imitate him, and made well fitting shoes for his sister's dolls.

Mrs. Elizabeth Cary Agassiz, in her fascinating life of her husband, tells this incident of his boyhood: "Though fond of quiet, indoor occupation, he was an active, daring boy. One winter day, when about seven years of age, he was skating with his little brother Auguste, two years younger than himself, and a number of other boys, near the shore of the lake. They were talking of a great fair held that day at the town of Morat, on the opposite side of the lake, to which M. Agassiz had gone in the morning, not crossing upon the ice, however, but driving around the shore.

"The temptation was too strong for Louis, and he proposed to Auguste that they should skate across, join their father at the fair, and come home with him in the afternoon. They started accordingly. The other boys remained on their skating ground till twelve o'clock, the usual dinner hour, when they returned to the village. Mme. Agassiz was watching for her boys, thinking them rather late, and, on inquiring for them among the troop of urchins coming down the village street, she learned on what errand they had gone. Her anxiety may be imagined. The lake was not less than two miles across, and she was by no means sure that the ice was safe.

"She hurried to an upper window with a spy-glass, to see if she could descry them anywhere. At the moment she caught sight of them, already far on their journey, Louis had laid himself down across a fissure in the ice, thus making a bridge for his little brother, who was creeping over his back. Their mother directed a workman, an excellent skater, to follow them as swiftly as possible. He overtook them just as they had gained the shore, but it did not occur to him that they could return otherwise than they had come, and he skated back with them across the lake. Weary, hungry, and disappointed, the boys reached the house without having seen the fair or enjoyed the drive home with their father in the afternoon."

At ten, Louis was sent to a school for boys at Bienne, where, though the children studied nine hours a day, the time was wisely divided between work and play, so that they were kept well and happy. The lad always remembered affectionately his teacher at this school, Mr. Rickly. When the vacations came, Louis and Auguste walked twenty miles home to Motier, and did not find the journey long or tedious.

At fourteen, Louis left Bienne, having finished his education, as he supposed, prior to entering the business house of his uncle, François Mayor, at Neuchâtel. That his young mind turned longingly towards a different future, may be seen from his desires written at this time on a sheet of foolscap.

"I wish to advance in the sciences, and for that I need D'Anville, Ritter, an Italian dictionary, a Strabo in Greek, Mannert and Thiersch; and also the works of Malte-Brun and Seyfert. I have resolved, as far as I am allowed to do so, to become a man of letters, and at present I can go no further: first, in ancient geography, for I already know all my note-books, and I have only such books as Mr. Rickly can lend me; I must have D'Anville or Mannert; second, in modern geography also, I have only such books as Mr. Rickly can lend me, and the Osterwold geography, which does not accord with the new divisions; I must have Ritter or Malte-Brun; third, for Greek I need a new grammar, and I shall choose Thiersch; fourth, I have no Italian dictionary, except one lent me by Mr. Moltz; I must have one; fifth, for Latin I need a larger grammar than the one I have, and I should like Seyfert; sixth, Mr. Rickly tells me that, as I have a taste for geography, he will give me a lesson in Greek (gratis) in which we would translate Strabo, provided I can find one. For all this I ought to have about twelve louis. I should like to stay at Bienne till the month of July, and afterward serve my apprenticeship in commerce at Neuchâtel for a year and a half. Then I should like to pass four years at a university in Germany, and finally finish my studies at Paris, where I would stay about five years. Then, at the age of twenty-five, I could begin to write."

At this early age, then, he was thinking of being an author!

He begged his parents to defer the business project for two years, that he might study at the College of Lausanne. They were willing and glad to please their boy; but they knew from experience the ills of poverty, and they hoped to save him from it by a wise choice of a life-work.

They gratified him, however, and he went to Lausanne. His uncle, Dr. Mathias Mayor, a physician of Lausanne, seeing that the boy was deeply interested in anatomy, advised that he should study medicine; so this was decided upon, as being more in accord with Louis' tastes than business.

As poor Vincenzio Galileo found it a difficult matter to make a wool merchant or a doctor out of a boy destined to be a man of science, so did the father of Louis Agassiz.

At seventeen, Louis left Lausanne for the medical school at Zurich. Here he became the friend as well as pupil of Professor Schinz, who held the chair of Natural History and Physiology. He gave young Agassiz a key to his private library, and also to his collection of birds; of course, the love for natural history grew stronger. Both boys, for Auguste had come to Zurich with his brother, were too poor to buy books even when they cost but a dollar a volume. The Swiss minister was saving to the uttermost to pay for board and decent clothes for his sons, to say nothing of books. Therefore the use of Schinz's library was a great favor.

Said Agassiz in after years, "My inability to buy books was, perhaps, not so great a misfortune as it seemed to me; at least, it saved me from too great dependence on written authority. I spent all my time in dissecting animals and in studying human anatomy, not forgetting my favorite amusements of fishing and collecting. I was always surrounded with pets, and had at this time some forty birds flying about my study, with no other home than a large pine-tree in the corner. I still remember my grief when a visitor, entering suddenly, caught one of my little favorites between the floor and the door, and he was killed before I could extricate him. Professor Schinz's private collection of birds was my daily resort, and I then described every bird it contained, as I could not afford to buy even a text-book of ornithology.

"I also copied with my own hand, having no means of purchasing the work, two volumes of Lamarck's 'Animaux sans Vertèbres,' and my dear brother copied another half-volume for me. I finally learned that the study of the things themselves was far more attractive than the books I so much coveted, and when, at last, large libraries became accessible to me, I usually contented myself with turning over the leaves of the volumes on natural history, looking at the illustrations, and recording the titles of the works, that I might readily consult them for identification of such objects as I should have an opportunity of examining in nature."

The boys remained two years at Zurich. One vacation, as they were walking home, the family having moved from Motier to Orbe, they were overtaken by a gentleman who asked them to ride, shared his lunch with them, and took them to their own door. Some days afterward he wrote to M. Agassiz that he had been so impressed by his son Louis that he wished to adopt him and provide for him through life.

This request caused great commotion in the little home, for the writer of the letter was a man of wealth in Geneva, but, after careful consideration, both parents and son declined the offer, preferring to struggle with poverty rather than bear separation.

At the end of the two years in Zurich, Auguste went to the commercial house of his uncle at Neuchâtel, and Louis to the University of Heidelberg, taking letters of introduction from Professor Schinz and others. Professor Tiedemann, the chancellor, had studied with Schinz; therefore, Agassiz received a warm welcome, and an offer of books from his library.

The young student worked earnestly. He wrote to his father: "Every morning I rise at six o'clock, dress and breakfast. At seven I go to my lectures given during the morning… If, in the interval, I have a free hour, as sometimes happens from ten to eleven, I occupy it in making anatomical preparations… From twelve to one I practise fencing. We dine at about one o'clock, after which I walk till two, when I return to the house and to my studies till five o'clock. From five to six we have a lecture from the renowned Tiedemann. After that, I either take a bath in the Neckar, or another walk. From eight to nine I resume my special work, and then, according to my inclination, go to the Swiss Club, or, if I am tired, to bed. I have my evening service and talk silently with you, believing that at that hour you also do not forget your Louis, who thinks always of you."

At Heidelberg, like Humboldt, Agassiz needed a congenial friend, and found one in Alexander Braun, of Carlsruhe, an ardent lover of botany, afterward Director of the Botanical Gardens in Berlin. He wrote to his parents concerning Agassiz, "a rare comet on the Heidelberg horizon… Not only do we collect and learn to observe all manner of things, but we have also an opportunity of exchanging our views on scientific matters in general. I learn a great deal from him, for he is much more at home in zoölogy than I am. He is familiar with almost all the known mammalia, recognizes the birds from far off by their song, and can give a name to every fish in the water.

"In the morning we often stroll together through the fish market, where he explains to me all the different species. He is going to teach me how to stuff fishes, and then we intend to make a collection of all the native kinds. Many other useful things he knows; speaks German and French equally well, English and Italian fairly, so that I have already appointed him to be my interpreter on some future vacation trip to Italy. He is well acquainted with ancient languages also, and studies medicine besides."

Schimper, another brilliant botanist, was a friend of both Braun and Agassiz. The professor in zoölogy, Leuckart, was very fond of these bright pupils, and allowed himself to be gotten up at seven in the morning, to give them extra lectures.

When vacation came, Braun took Agassiz to his home; a cultured place, rich in books, music, and collections of plants and animals. Agassiz was very happy there; possibly the happiness was increased by the fact that Braun had a lovely and artistic sister, Cecile. Agassiz wrote home, "My happiness would be perfect were it not for the painful thought which pursues me everywhere, that I live on your privations; yet it is impossible for me to diminish my expenses further. You would lift a great weight from my heart if you could relieve yourself of this burden by an arrangement with my uncle at Neuchâtel… Otherwise I am well, going on as usual, always working as hard as I can, and I believe all the professors whose lectures I attend are satisfied with me."

In the spring of 1827, when Agassiz was twenty, he was taken ill of typhus fever, and it was feared he would not recover. As soon as possible he was removed to Braun's home, and most tenderly cared for. When he became able, he went to his own home, at Orbe. From there he writes to Braun: "I had the good fortune to find at least thirty specimens of Bombinator obstetricans, with the eggs. Tell Dr. Leuckart that I will bring him some, – and some for you also. I kept several alive, laid in damp moss; after fourteen days the eggs were almost as large as peas, and the little tadpoles moved about inside in all directions. The mother stripped the eggs from her legs, and one of the little tadpoles came out, but died for want of water. Then I placed the whole mass of eggs in a vessel filled with water, and behold! in about an hour some twenty young ones were swimming freely about. I shall spare no pains to raise them, and I hope, if I begin aright, to make fine toads of them in the end. My oldest sister is busy every day in making drawings for me to illustrate their gradual development."

In the fall of 1827, Agassiz and Braun, after spending a little more than a year at Heidelberg, went to the University of Munich, there meeting Schimper. He wrote home, that from one of his windows he could see "the whole chain of the Tyrolean Alps, as far as Appenzell… It is a great pleasure to have at least a part of our Swiss mountains always in sight. To enjoy it the more, I have placed my table opposite the window, so that every time I lift my head my eyes rest on our dear country."

At Munich, the young students were stimulated by the presence of many noted men. Döllinger lectured on comparative anatomy; Schelling, on philosophy; Oken, on natural history, physiology, and zoölogy; Martius, on botany. Agassiz and Braun roomed in Döllinger's house. This room soon became the intellectual centre for the bright men of the college, and was called "the little academy." Here different students gave lectures, each on his special subject of study; the professors, even, coming as listeners.

"In that room," said Agassiz, years later, "I made all the skeletons represented on the plates of Wagler's 'Natural System of Reptiles'; there I once received the great anatomist Meckel, sent to me by Döllinger to examine my anatomical preparations, and especially the many fish-skeletons I had made from fresh-water fishes. By my side were constantly at work two artists; one engaged in drawing various objects of natural history, the other in drawing fossil fishes. I kept always one, and sometimes two artists, in my pay. It was not easy, with an allowance of two hundred and fifty dollars a year; but they were even poorer than I, and so we managed to get along together. My microscope I had earned by writing." Poor Agassiz! he was yet to see greater pecuniary trials than this.

Says Mr. Dinkel, one of the artists who worked with Agassiz for many years: "I soon found myself engaged four or five hours almost daily in painting for him fresh-water fishes from the life, while he was at my side, sometimes writing out his descriptions, sometimes directing me… He never lost his temper, though often under great trial; he remained self-possessed, and did everything calmly, having a friendly smile for every one, and a helping hand for those who were in need. He was at that time scarcely twenty years old, and was already the most prominent among the students of Munich. They loved him, and had a high consideration for him… He liked merry society, but he himself was in general reserved, and never noisy. He picked out the gifted and highly learned students, and would not waste his time in ordinary conversation. Often, when he saw a number of students going off on some empty pleasure-trip, he said to me, 'There they go with the other fellows… I will go my own way, Mr. Dinkel, – and not alone. I will be a leader of others.'"

Agassiz writes to his brother Auguste: "It will interest you to know that I am working with a young Dr. Born upon an anatomy and natural history of the fresh-water fishes of Europe. We have already gathered a great deal of material, and I think by the spring, or in the course of the summer, we shall be able to publish the first number… I earnestly advise you to while away your leisure hours with study. Read much, but only good and useful books… Remember that statistical and political knowledge alone distinguishes the true merchant from the mere tradesmen, and guides him in his undertakings… Write me about what you are reading, and about your plans and projects, for I can hardly believe that any one could exist without forming them; I, at least, could not."

It is not strange that the watchful mother begins to be anxious, for she hears nothing from her son about her "project" of medicine. She writes him that she detects in his letters "a certain sadness and discontent." "How is it," she says, "that you look forward only with distaste to the practice of medicine? Have you reflected seriously before setting aside this profession? Indeed, we cannot consent to such a step; you would lose ground in our opinion, in that of your family, and in that of the public you would pass for an inconsiderate, fickle young fellow, and the slightest stain on your reputation would be a mortal blow to us… Of course you will not gather roses without thorns. Life consists of pains and pleasures everywhere. To do all the good you can to your fellow-beings, to have a pure conscience, to gain an honorable livelihood, to procure for yourself by work a little ease, to make those around you happy, that is true happiness; all the rest but mere accessories and chimeras."

And then the good Swiss minister adds, thus to quiet his son's restless nature, "If it be absolutely essential to your happiness that you should break the ice of the two poles in order to find the hairs of a mammoth, … at least wait till your trunk is packed and your passports are signed before you talk with us about it. Begin by reaching your first aim, a physician's and surgeon's diploma… My own philosophy is to fulfil my duties in my sphere, and even that gives me more than I can do." Fortunately Louis Agassiz did not possess the kind of philosophy that brings content in a small parish on a Swiss lake; his sphere was to be the world, and two continents were to be proud of him.

In 1817, the King of Bavaria had sent two naturalists, M. Martius and M. Spix, on an exploring expedition to Brazil. They returned in four years, laden with treasures. M. Martius issued colored illustrations of all the unknown plants he had collected, and M. Spix several volumes on the monkeys, birds, and reptiles of Brazil. He had intended to give a complete natural history of Brazil, but died before his work was finished. Martius asked Agassiz to continue the work of Spix, in the line of fishes.

Agassiz writes to his sister Cecile: "I hesitated for a long time to accept this honorable offer, fearing that the occupation might withdraw me too much from my studies; but, on the other hand, the opportunity for laying the foundation of a reputation by a large undertaking seemed too favorable to be refused. The first volume is already finished, and the printing was begun some weeks ago… Already forty colored folio plates are completed. Will it not seem strange when the largest and finest book in papa's library is one written by his Louis? Will it not be as good as to see his prescription at the apothecary's? It is true that this first effort will bring me in but little; nothing at all, in fact, because M. de Martius has assumed all the expenses, and will, of course, receive the profits. My share will be a few copies of the book, and these I shall give to the friends who have the first claim."