Chapter II: Part 2

He was now, at twenty-seven, spoken of as a man of "unparalleled genius." He had discovered the compound nature of white light, the attraction of gravity, fluxions, and made the first reflecting telescope ever directed toward the heavens, though one had been invented previously, by James Gregory, of Aberdeen. The boy who had thought of a mouse to turn his windmill had thought out some of the sublimest things in nature, and was henceforward to rank as one of the few masterminds of science. Newton's doctrine of colors met with the most bitter opposition. At last, he became so tired of the controversy, that he wrote Leibnitz, "I was so persecuted with discussions arising out of my theory of light, that I blamed my own imprudence for parting with so substantial a blessing as my quiet to run after a shadow." To another he wrote, "I see I have made myself a slave to philosophy; but if I get free of Mr. Linus's business, I will resolutely bid adieu to it eternally, excepting what I do for my private satisfaction, or leave to come out after me; for I see a man must either resolve to put out nothing new, or to become a slave to defend it."

Newton was also troubled pecuniarily at this time, and asked to be excused from the weekly payments to the Royal Society, thereby resigning his membership. He even meditated the study of law, as his income was so limited. Strange that so many of the great things of this life are wrought out by those who are in sorrow or privation.

But amid all the opposition to his discoveries and his poverty, the unparalleled devotion to study was continued. When he was weary of other branches, he said "he refreshed himself with history and chronology." Years afterward he published the "Chronology of Ancient Kingdoms amended, to which is prefixed a short chronicle, from the first memory of things in Europe, to the Conquest of Persia, by Alexander the Great." Says a gentleman who was with him for years, "I never knew him to take any recreation or pastime, either in riding out to take the air, walking, boating, or any other exercise whatever, thinking all hours lost that were not spent in his studies, to which he kept so close that he seldom left his chamber except at term time, when he read in the schools, as being Lucasianus Professor, where so few went to hear him, and fewer that understood him, that oftentimes he did in a manner, for want of hearers, read to the walls....

"So intent, so serious upon his studies that he ate very sparingly, nay, ofttimes he has forgot to eat at all, so that, going into his chamber, I have found his mess untouched, of which when I have reminded him he would reply, 'Have I?' and then making to the table, would eat a bit or two standing, for I cannot say I ever saw him sit at table by himself. At some seldom entertainments the masters of colleges were chiefly his guests.

"He very rarely went to bed till two or three of the clock, sometimes not till five or six, lying about four or five hours, especially at spring and fall of the leaf, at which times he used to employ about six weeks in his elaboratory, the fire scarcely going out either night or day, he sitting up one night, and I another, till he had finished his chemical experiments, in the performances of which he was the most accurate, strict, exact...."

When his most intense studies were carried on, "he learned to go to bed at twelve, finding by experience that if he exceeded that hour but a little, it did him more harm in his health than a whole day's study."

"He very rarely went to dine in the hall, except on some public days, and then if he has not been minded, would go very carelessly, with shoes down at heels, stockings untied, surplice on, and his head scarcely combed.... At some seldom times when he designed to dine in the hall, he would turn to the left hand and go out into the street, when making a stop when he found his mistake, would hastily turn back, and then sometimes, instead of going into the hall, would return to his chamber again.... In his chamber he walked so very much that you might have thought him to be educated at Athens, among the Aristotelian sect."

So absent-minded was he, the story is told of him, that going home to Colsterworth, he led his horse up a hill. When he designed to remount, the animal had slipped the bridle and gone away unperceived, though Newton held the bridle in his hand all the time. He would often sit down on his bedside after he rose, and remain there for hours without dressing, so completely absorbed was he in his thought. How few in all this world have been so devoted to science! And yet how many expect success without this devotion!

The same gentleman writes of Newton, "His carriage was very meek, sedate, and humble, never seemingly angry, of profound thought, his countenance mild, pleasant, and comely. I cannot say I ever saw him laugh but once."

In 1687, when Newton was forty-five, his _Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica_ was published. "The _Principia_ consists of three books. The First Book, besides the definition and axioms, or laws of motion, with which it begins, consists of fourteen sections, in the first of which the author explains the method of prime and ultimate ratios used in his investigations, and which is similar to the method of fluxions. The other sections treat of centripetal forces, and motions in fixed and movable orbits.

"The Second Book consists of nine sections, and treats of bodies moving in resisting media, or oscillating as pendulums.

"The Third Book consists of five sections, on the Causes of the System of the World, on the Quantity of Lunar Errors, on the Quantity of the Tides, on the Precession of the Equinoxes, and on Comets."

The great principle of the _Principia_ is universal gravitation, "That every particle of matter in the universe is attracted by or gravitates to every other particle of matter, with a force inversely proportional to the squares of their distances." By the laws of gravity, Newton was enabled to calculate the quantity of matter in the sun, and in all the planets, and even to determine their density, results which Adam Smith said "were above the reach of human reason and experience." He ascertained that the weight of the same body would be twenty-three times greater at the surface of the sun than at the surface of the earth, and that the density of the earth was four times greater than that of the sun. He found the true figure of the earth; he explained the phenomena of the tides.

Of the "Principia," Sir David Brewster says, in his able life of Sir Isaac Newton, it is "a work which will be memorable not only in the annals of one science or of one country, but which will form an epoch in the history of the world, and will ever be regarded as the brightest page in the records of human reason,--a work, may we not add, which would be read with delight in every planet of our system,--in every system of the universe. What a glorious privilege was it to have been the author of the 'Principia'!

"There was but one earth upon whose form, and tides, and movements, the philosopher could exercise his genius,--one moon whose perturbations and inequalities and actions he could study,--one sun whose controlling force and apparent motions he could calculate and determine,--one system of planets whose mutual disturbances could tax his highest reason,--one system of comets whose eccentric paths he could explore and rectify,--and one universe of stars to whose binary and multiple combinations he could extend the law of terrestrial gravity.

"To have been the chosen sage summoned to the study of that earth, these systems, and that universe, the favored lawgiver to worlds unnumbered, the high priest in the temple of boundless space,--was a privilege that could be granted but one member of the human family;--and to have executed the last was an achievement which, in its magnitude, can be measured only by the infinite in space, and in the duration of its triumphs by the infinite in time. That sage,--that lawgiver,--that high priest was Newton."

The "Principia" created the greatest interest throughout Europe, but met with violent opposition. While Laplace said it would take "pre-eminence above all the other productions of human genius," the majority could not believe that great planets were suspended in empty space, and retained in their orbits by an invisible power in the sun.

When Newton presented copies to the heads of colleges, some of them, Dr. Babington of Trinity among the number, said, "they might study seven years before they understood anything of it."

In 1687, Newton's method of fluxions was first published, twenty years after its invention, and then because the friends of Leibnitz, the author of the "Differential Calculus," claimed priority of discovery. The quarrel aroused the scientific world, embittered the silent mathematician, and impaired his health.

In 1689, when he was forty-seven, he was chosen member of parliament, and represented Cambridge University in the House of Commons for thirteen months. He took no active part in the debates, but was of course respected for his wonderful mind.

This same year, his beloved mother died. Anxiously he had watched through whole nights by her bedside, seeking in all ways to keep her from leaving him alone in the world.

He was now nearly fifty. His life had been laborious, with an insufficient income. His friends, John Locke among the number, tried to obtain various positions for him, but failed. They recommended him for provost of King's College, but the position could not be obtained because he had not taken priest's orders.

Seemingly unappreciated, worn with his incessant brain work, his appetite failing, and unable to sleep, with neither mother nor wife to comfort him, the sensitive organization of the great man became overstrained, and mind and body were unfitted for work. It is stated that his ill health was in part consequent upon the burning of some manuscripts on optics, by a lighted candle on the table among his papers.

When he was fifty-three, the long hard road of poverty turned into a highway of plenty, through the influence of a friend. Charles Montague, an associate of Newton at the university and also in parliament, though nineteen years his junior,--intellectual affinities are uninfluenced by age,--had been made Commissioner of the Treasury, then Privy Councillor, then Chancellor of the Exchequer, and later still, Baron of Halifax.

Lord Halifax appointed Newton to be Warden of the Mint, and then Master, with an income of between six thousand and seven thousand five hundred dollars annually, which position he held for the remainder of his life. His home in London, where he kept six servants, with his brilliant niece, Miss Catherine Barton, for his companion, became a place of rest and comfort to the tired philosopher. Lord Halifax was a great admirer of Newton's niece, Miss Catherine Barton, to whom he left, at his death, a beautiful home and twenty-five thousand dollars, "as a token of the sincere love, affection, and esteem I have long had for her person, and as a small recompense for the pleasure and happiness I have had in her conversation."

The days of privation were over, and Newton had earned this rest and prosperity. Great people often came to dine with him. At one of his dinners, Newton proposed to drink, not to the health of kings and princes, but to all honest persons, to whatever country they belonged. "We are all friends," he added, "because we unanimously aim at the only object worthy of man, which is the knowledge of truth. We are also of the same religion, because, leading a simple life, we conform ourselves to what is right, and we endeavor sincerely to give to the Supreme Being that worship which, according to our feeble lights, we are persuaded will please him most."

Other honors now come to Newton. In 1703, he was elected President of the Royal Society, and was annually reelected during the remaining twenty-five years of his life. On April 16, 1705, when he was sixty-three, Queen Anne conferred the honor of knighthood upon her most illustrious subject, Sir Isaac Newton, before a distinguished company at Cambridge University. In 1704, the year previous, his great work on optics had been published, written over twenty years before.

About this time, it seems that the great philosopher would have liked to marry Lady Norris, the widow of Sir William Norris, Baronet of Speke, and Member of Parliament. Sent to Delhi as ambassador to the Great Mogul, he died in 1702, between Mauritius and St. Helena, on his homeward passage. He was the third husband to Lady Norris, and Sir Isaac, now over sixty, desired to be the fourth, as appears from the following letter:--

"Madam,--Your ladyship's great grief at the loss of Sir William
shows that if he had returned safe home, your ladyship could have
been glad to have lived still with a husband, and therefore your
aversion at present from marrying again can proceed from nothing
else than the memory of him whom you have lost. To be always
thinking on the dead, is to live a melancholy life among
sepulchres, and how much grief is an enemy to your health, is very
manifest by the sickness it brought when you received the first
news of your widowhood. And can your ladyship resolve to spend
the rest of your days in grief and sickness?

"Can you resolve to wear a widow's habit perpetually,--a habit
which is less acceptable to company, a habit which will be always
putting you in mind of your lost husband, and thereby promote you
grief and indisposition till you leave it off? The proper remedy
for all these mischiefs is a new husband, and whether your
ladyship should admit of a proper remedy for such maladies, is a
question which I hope will not need much time to consider of.

"Whether your ladyship should go constantly in the melancholy
dress of a widow, or flourish once more among the ladies; whether
you should spend the rest of your days cheerfully or in sadness,
in health or in sickness, are questions which need not much
consideration to decide them. Besides that your ladyship will be
better able to live according to your quality by the assistance of
a husband than upon your own estate alone; and, therefore, since
your ladyship likes the person proposed, I doubt not but in a
little time to have notice of your ladyship's inclinations to
marry, at least, that you will give him leave to discourse with
you about it.

"I am, madam, your ladyship's most humble and most obedient
servant."

If Lady Norris "liked the person proposed," as Sir Isaac imagined, a marriage was not the result. It is just possible that he was like Leibnitz, who proposed to a lady when he was fifty. The lady asked for time to take the matter into consideration, and as Leibnitz thus obtained leisure to consider the matter again, he was never married.

For thirteen years Sir Isaac lived on Jermyn Street, London; then moved to Chelsea, a place dear to those who love George Eliot or admire Carlyle; and then to Martin Street, near Leicester Fields.

In his latter years he wrote much on theological subjects, especially to prove the existence of a Deity. When he was eighty-three he published a third edition of the "Principia." At eighty-five he read manuscript without spectacles. He reasoned as acutely as ever, his memory alone failing.

On March 2, 1727, he presided at a meeting of the Royal Society. He was taken ill on the following day, and, although a great sufferer for several days, never uttered a complaint. He died on Monday, March 20, and his body was laid in the Jerusalem Chamber, and thence conveyed to Westminster Abbey for burial. The pall was supported by the Lord High Chancellor and several Dukes and Earls.

On the front of his monument are sculptured youths, bearing in their hands emblematic designs of Newton's principal discoveries. One carries a prism, another a reflecting telescope, a third is weighing the sun and planets with a steelyard, a fourth is employed about a furnace, and two others are loaded with money newly coined. The monument bears this inscription.

HERE LIES
SIR ISAAC NEWTON, KNIGHT,
Who by a vigor of mind, almost supernatural,
First demonstrated
The motions and figures of the Planets,
The Paths of the Comets, and the
Tides of the Ocean.
He diligently investigated
The different refrangibilities of the Rays of Light,
And the properties of the Colors to which
they give rise.
An Assiduous, Sagacious, and Faithful Interpreter
of Nature, Antiquity, and the Holy Scriptures,
He asserted in his Philosophy the Majesty of
God, and exhibited in his Conduct the
simplicity of the Gospel.
Let Mortals rejoice that there has existed
such and so great

AN ORNAMENT OF THE HUMAN RACE.

Born 25 Dec., 1642; Died 20 March, 1727.

A beautiful full-length, white marble statue of Sir Isaac was erected in the ante-chapel of Trinity College, where he had done his wonderful work, when scarcely more than a boy.

While he gave generously during his life, he said, "they who give nothing till they die, never give at all,"--he left a personal estate of one hundred and sixty thousand dollars, to be divided among his nephews and nieces.

The world honored him at last, and has through all the years. Bishop Burnet said, "Newton had the _whitest_ soul he ever knew." His habits were of the best. When asked to take snuff or tobacco, he declined, saying, "he would make no necessities to himself."

He was modest to the last, saying, "that whatever service he had done the public was not owing to any extraordinary sagacity, but solely to industry and patient thought." He said, a short time before his death: "I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the seashore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me."

CARL LINNAEUS.

It was on the 24th of July that we left Stockholm, the Venice of the North, built on her nine islands, for the famous university town of Upsala, Sweden. The ride, of about two hours by rail, lay along fine fields of wheat, blue with corn-flowers, and past comfortable-looking red farmhouses and barns.

The town, of thirteen thousand people, is quaint and quiet, yet most interesting to a stranger. We wander over the grand old Gothic cathedral, begun six hundred years ago. Here is the silver-gilt sarcophagus of King Eric IX., who died in 1160, and of John III. Here, also, that of Gustavus Vasa, the deliverer of Sweden, on a high marble pedestal supported by pillars, a recumbent figure of a wife on either side. A third wife is buried near by. The walls of the chapel where he lies are covered with frescoes, depicting scenes in that wonderful life; from the rags of the miner, to the sumptuousness of the throne.

But especially are we interested in a plain slab, underneath which sleeps the man who, more than any other, has immortalized Upsala University, and helped to make Sweden an intellectual and studious country. Near by is the monument of dark porphyry, with the plain, shaven face in bronze, wreathed with laurel, and the words "_Carolo a Linne Botanicorum Principi Amici et Discipuli, 1798._"

Then we turn our steps to the University, the pride and hope of Sweden. Here fifteen hundred gather, not in dormitories--which were tried fifty years ago and discarded--but scattered in various homes, as in the German universities. Women are educated here on equal terms with men, and we are assured by the professors that, though admitted only a few years ago, their presence is most helpful, and the plan has proved entirely successful. No duels are allowed, these having been abolished by stringent laws two hundred years ago; a thing Germany should long since have done, and thus ended this brutal custom.

Here is the Astronomical Observatory, the Chemical Laboratory, Anatomy Building, Academic Department, and handsome library with two hundred thousand volumes and over seven thousand manuscripts. Here we look at the celebrated "Codex Argenteus," a translation of the four Gospels by Bishop Ulfila, dating from the second half of the fourth century, written on one hundred and eighty-eight leaves of parchment--gold and silver letters on a reddish ground; and the manuscript of Frithiof's Saga, by Tegner.

Now we visit the Botanic Garden, which Linnaeus so loved and developed, and go over the two-and-a-half-story stuccoed house, cream-colored, where the great naturalist lived and entertained princes. Under these dark poplars, enormous in size, he taught the pupils who came from all parts of the world to hear him. The dark, closed blinds are as he left them, for Sweden would not change one thing about the precious home. Too little in our own country do we treasure the homes of those who give honor to the nation.

The history of Linnaeus is, indeed, a romance. Few have had such great struggles with poverty; few have come off such conquerors. Few lives have given to the world such lessons of cheerfulness, of perseverance, and of untiring industry. He was born, May, 1707, at Rashult, in the south of Sweden, the son of a poor minister, and the eldest of five children. The father, Nils Linnaeus, had obtained his education by the hardest toil, and, while he had only poverty to offer his family, he gave them what money could not buy, tender affection, and the inspiring influence of a cultivated mind that loved nature and studied her closely. His mother, Christina, a woman of sense, prudence, and good judgment, was his idol. He wrote of her in later years: "She possessed all the virtues of her sex, devoting the utmost attention to impressing on my mind the love of virtue, both in precept and example."

From a child he was fond of his father's garden, and gathered from the fields all kinds of wild flowers. He says of himself in his autobiography: "He was scarcely four years old when he accompanied his father at a feast at Moekler, and in the evening, it being a very pleasant season of the year, the guests seated themselves on some flowery turf, listening to the pastor, who made various remarks on the names and properties of the plants, showing them the roots of the succisa, tormentilla, orchids, etc. The child paid the most uninterrupted attention to all he saw and heard, and from that hour never ceased harassing his father about the name, qualities, and nature of every plant he met with; indeed, he very often asked more than his father was able to answer, but, like other children, he used immediately to forget what he had learned, and especially the _names_ of plants. Hence the father was sometimes put out of humor, and refused to answer him unless he would promise to remember what was told him. Nor had this harshness any bad effect, for he afterward retained with ease whatever he heard."

When he was eight, a piece of ground was assigned him, which was called "Carl's Garden." Here he gathered plants and flowers, and introduced so many rare weeds that his father had great trouble in eradicating them! So interested did Carl become, that he had nests of wild bees and wasps, not agreeable playthings usually.

But the play days with weeds and wasps came to an end, for the bright boy had to go to school. His first teacher was "a passionate and morose man, better calculated for extinguishing a youth's talents than for improving them," and the next "pursued the same methods, preferring stripes and punishments to encouragements and admonitions." There was little time now for the precious study of flowers. At seventeen he had to go to a gymnasium or high school, where he would be taught classics, and made ready for the ministry, like his father. He had no fondness for the languages, neither for theology or metaphysics: but having obtained two books on botany, he read them day and night, committing them to memory. The teachers and scholars called him "the little botanist."

What was his father's chagrin, when he came to the school to visit him, to hear that Carl was quite unfit for the ministry, but would probably make a good tailor or shoemaker! Poor as he was, he had kept his boy at school for about twelve years. Now, well-nigh disheartened, he stopped, on his way home, to confer with his family physician, Dr. Rothmann. That good man suggested that the boy might like medicine, and accomplish great things in natural history. He offered to take him into his own home, and give him lessons in physiology, which kind proposal the father accepted, though with little faith. The doctor also taught him botany, and Carl grew happy under the new _regime_.

The next year he was sent to the University of Lund, with the following not very creditable certificate from the head master of the Gymnasium: "Youth at school may be compared to shrubs in a garden, which will sometimes, though rarely, elude all the care of the gardener, but if transplanted into a different soil, may become fruitful trees. With this view, therefore, and no other, the bearer is sent to the University, where it is possible that he may meet with a climate propitious to his progress." Through a friend, entrance was obtained without showing the obnoxious certificate.

Carl took lodgings at the house of Dr. Stobaeus, physician to the king, who gave him access to his minerals, shells, and dried plants. Delighted at this, the youth at once began to make a collection of his own, and glue them on paper. He longed to gain access to Dr. Stobaeus's library, but how should it be accomplished? Finally a young German student, to whom he taught physiology, surreptitiously gained the books needed, and young Linnaeus spent nearly the whole nights in reading. The doctor's aged mother did not understand why their lodger kept his light burning into the small hours, and besought her son to investigate. He did so, and found the crestfallen Carl reading his own library books. He forgave the student, took him to his own table and treated him as a son.

Advised by Dr. Rothmann to go to Upsala for better medical opportunities, he proceeded thither, and here began his bitterest poverty. His father could give him only forty dollars. As he was unknown, and without influence, he could obtain no private pupils. Starvation actually stared him in the face. He says, "he was obliged to trust to chance for a meal, and in the article of dress, was reduced to such shifts that he was obliged, when his shoes required mending, to patch them with folded paper, instead of sending them to the cobbler." Often hungry and half clothed, there seemed nothing before the poor Swedish lad but obscurity and early death.

One day in autumn, as he was examining some plants in the Academical Garden, a venerable clergyman, Dr. Olaf Celsius, saw him, and asked him where he came from, how long he had been at the college, and what he knew about plants. He, too, was interested in botany, and was preparing a work on the plants mentioned in the Bible. Perhaps something in Carl's face or manner touched the minister's heart, for he asked him to go home with him, and soon offered him board in his own house, and gave him access to his valuable library.

The tide of adversity was beginning to turn. Some pupils were obtained, and a little money flowed into the empty pockets. At twenty-two, by a close examination of the stamens and pistils of flowers, he decided upon a new method of arrangement by the sexes of plants, which, in after years, became the basis of his great fame. This procured him the appointment of Assistant Lecturer to Dr. Rudbeck in the Botanical Garden, where, but a year before, he had asked to be the gardener!

He still had little money, but, what was equally useful, some leisure time. He began his great works, which were not completed for seven years, "Bibliotheca Botanica," "Classes Plantarum," "Critica Botanica," and "Genera Plantarum," "letting," as he said, "not a minute pass unoccupied during his residence at Upsala. For the latter work he examined the characters of eight thousand flowers."

Scarcely had he begun this valuable labor, when the envy of one of the professors became as hard to bear as his previous poverty, and, through friends, he obtained an appointment to study the natural history of Lapland. It was a hazardous expedition for a young man of twenty-five. Now he climbed steep rocks, "which," he says, "broke loose from a spot which my late guide had just passed, and fell exactly where I had been, with such force that it struck fire as it went." Once, when floating down a river, the raft parted in the middle, and he narrowly escaped drowning. "All my food," he says, "in those fatiguing excursions, consisted, for the most part, of fish and reindeer's milk. Bread, salt, and what is found everywhere else, did but seldom recreate my palate." He travelled nearly four thousand miles, mostly on foot, often through bogs and marshes, with the water to his knees, yet always cheerful, always enthusiastic. On presenting his report to the University, on his return home, they gave him about fifty dollars for his travelling expenses for five months!

A single incident shows the tender heart of the young explorer. Very few birds were visible except the ptarmigan. He says: "The little Alpine variety of the ptarmigan was now accompanied by its young. I caught one of these, upon which the hen ran so close to me that I could easily have taken her also. She kept continually jumping round and round me, but I thought it a pity to deprive the tender brood of their mother; neither would my compassion for the mother allow me long to detain her offspring, which I returned to her in safety." Tenderness to animals seems to be a striking characteristic of great men and women.

During the journey, he found a modest little flower in the great northern forests, in the moss, and this he named _Linnaea borealis_, thinking it was so like himself, expanding in obscurity. He chose for his motto, _Tantus amor florum_, "So great is the love for flowers."

On his return to Upsala, he began courses of private lectures in medicine, but so bitter was the envy of the before-mentioned professor that the archbishop was prevailed upon to prohibit private lectures. Thus deprived of a livelihood, Linnaeus turned his attention to mineralogy, visiting the Swedish mines. The Governor of Dalecarlia was so pleased with him that he engaged him to investigate the productions of his country. Here he fell in love with the daughter of John Moraeus, a well-to-do physician.

Sara Elizabeth reciprocated the affections of the young man, who was told by the father that he must wait three years for a final answer; for, in truth, Linnaeus's financial prospects were not bright. The University of Upsala did not want him, and there seemed to be no hope of writing or publishing his books on botany. But a man usually achieves little, who does not fight his way at every step. Now, indeed, for love's sake he must make his mark.

After saving about seventy-five dollars, he decided to go to Germany, and take his doctor's degree; but first he must visit his home, out of which his beloved mother had gone at forty-five. "Alas! alas, my mother!" was all he could say, as the tears fell fast upon her grave. She had witnessed his poverty and his heroism; she was not to witness his great renown.

At Hamburg he spent a month, receiving civilities from many scientific men. He showed his good sense in feeling in no wise humiliated because he was poor, a valuable lesson for poor young men and women to learn. At Leyden, good fortune came to him. Dr. Gronovius was so pleased with the manuscript of his "Systema Naturae" that he requested to publish it at his own expense. By his advice, Carl waited upon the celebrated physician, Boerhaave, and after eight days gained admittance. So famous was this man that when the Emperor of China sent a letter to "Boerhaave, the famous physician in Europe," it easily reached him. He advised a rich banker, Mr. Clifford, to have Linnaeus describe his magnificent collection of plants, and to send him to England and elsewhere, to collect specimens for him. This was indeed a blessing. "Here in England," he says, "I lived like a prince, and had one of the finest gardens of the world under my inspection." A society in Amsterdam advanced the money to pay for the plates for his "Flora Lapponica," and fame seemed really to be coming at last.

In his visit to England, Sir Hans Sloane, who founded the British Museum, looked upon him coldly because he had suggested a different system in natural history from his own! At Oxford, Dillenius said to friends, sarcastically: "See, this is the young man who confounds all botany!" Linnaeus felt hurt, and, when about to take his departure from the city, asked the scientist why he had treated him thus. After the young student had explained his work, Dillenius became his warm friend, and pressed him to stay, and even to share his salary with him. Linnaeus was greatly pleased with London, and when he saw the golden furze in its green leaves, fell on his knees before it.

On his return to Germany he went to the death-bed of Boerhaave, whose parting words were: "I have lived out my time and done what I could. May God preserve thee, from whom the world expects much more! Farewell, my dear Linnaeus!"

He now hastened to the idol of his heart in Sweden, and what was his amazement to find that the friend to whom he had intrusted his correspondence with Sara Elizabeth had been trying to win her for himself! Perhaps it would have been quite as well for Linnaeus had he succeeded! However, matters were amicably adjusted, and the long waiting lover became engaged.

He repaired at once to Stockholm to begin the practice of medicine, still keeping as near Upsala University as possible. And here troubles began anew. He says: "Being unknown to everybody, people were unwilling to trust their lives in my hands. Nay, they even hesitated to trust me with their dogs! Abroad, I had been honored in every place as Princeps Botanicorum; but in my own country I was looked upon as a _Klim_, newly arrived from the subterranean regions! No one cared how many sleepless nights and toilsome hours I passed. Had I not been in love I would certainly have left Sweden and gone abroad."

After a time a fortunate cure effected by him brought him speedy popularity. "No invalid could now recover without my assistance. I was busy from four in the morning till late in the evening; nor were my nights left undisturbed." He was soon chosen a member of the Upsala Academy, and at the request of the king, through his tutor, Count Tessin, gave public lectures on botany and mineralogy.

And now the rising botanist desired to claim his bride. They were accordingly married June 26, 1739, when Linnaeus was thirty-two. Dr. Moraeus had waited long enough to see that his daughter was making no mistake. Life now flowed on smoothly. If the "little wife," as he called her, governed him with no very gentle sway in after years, she had great influence over him, and it is said that at her instigation he persecuted his only son. All the more is Linnaeus to be admired for accomplishing such a grand work with domestic hindrances. It takes a very great man to be great when his home is not a help to him! However, he always regarded her as "one of the choicest gifts bestowed upon him."

His medical practice brought him plenty of money, but he wrote to a friend: "Once I had plants and no money: now what is money good for without plants?" Soon the desire of his heart was granted, and he was made Professor of Botany at Upsala University, also superintendent of the Botanical Garden.

Now he says: "I render thanks to the Almighty, who has ordered my lot so that I live at this day; and live, too, happier than the King of Persia. I think myself thus blessed because in this academic garden I am principal. This is my Rhodus, or, rather, my Elysium; here I enjoy the spoils of the East and the West, and, if I mistake not, that which far excels in beauty the garments of the Babylonians and the porcelain of China."

His fame grew rapidly. He published, in 1745, his "Flora Suecica," and a year later his "Fauna Suecica," a description of Swedish plants and animals. His lectures soon, by their enthusiasm and eloquence, brought listeners from all parts of Europe. The number of students in the university grew from five hundred to fifteen hundred, young men coming even from America to hear the great botanist. During the summer he made excursions twice a week, often at the head of two hundred students, and when some rare plant was discovered, the news was announced to the others by horn or trumpet. His scholars, imbued with his spirit, went over the world in scientific investigation. Some died in the Arabian deserts; some in the swamps of Africa. From foreign students he would take no fee, as he desired to show them how he loved his work. Once he said to a German student: "Tell me, candidly, are you rich, and can you afford it? If you can, then give the money to my wife; but, if you be poor, so help me Heaven, I will not take a single farthing from you!"

Most of the scientific societies of Europe made him a member after his great works were published. The Imperial Academy called him "Dioscorides Secundus"; a gold medal was struck in his honor in 1746, and the king made him dean of the College of Physicians. He published two valuable medical books, and received the honor of the Knight of the Polar Star, never before conferred for literary merit. He was made a noble, and took for his motto, _Famam extendere factis_, adorning his crest with the little flower which he discovered in his poverty. He was made rector of the university, holding the position for several years. How different from the time when he could obtain only a chance meal, and covered up the holes in his torn shoes!

He bought two estates, living at one of them--Hammerby--for fifteen years. In 1774, when he was sixty-seven, he suffered an attack of apoplexy in the Botanical Garden, and, two years later, another stroke made him a paralytic. When he could no longer walk, he used to be carried to his museum, and look long and earnestly at his treasures, gathered from every clime. His memory so failed him that he mixed the Greek and Latin letters, and forgot even his own name. On the 10th of January, 1778, death came to him in his sleep.

The university went into mourning, the king made a public address, and the whole nation regarded it as an irreparable loss. His herbarium and library were sold, after a time, by the wife, to Sir James E. Smith, the founder of the Linnaean Society, of London, where these treasures are now to be seen, and most of the one hundred and eighty works which he published during forty-five years. It is said that the King of Sweden, on learning that the work of Linnaeus was going out of the country, sent a man-of-war to recover it, but without avail.

Linnaeus was small in body, with large head, and the bright, piercing eyes which usually characterize men and women of genius.

Of his six children, the oldest soon became professor of botany, to assist, and then succeed, his father, but he lacked the parent's just and honorable love of fame. The eldest daughter inherited much of his ability, being the first to discover the luminous property of the nasturtium flowers at night. Sara Elizabeth survived her noble husband many years, and now lies beside him in the cathedral.

BARON CUVIER.

In the town of Montbeliard, France, then belonging to the Duke of Wuertemberg, August 23, 1769, was born the founder of the Science of Comparative Anatomy; the greatest naturalist of his time, Georges Leopold Chretien Frederic Dagobert Cuvier. His father was a brave officer in a Swiss regiment, who at fifty married a young lady of unusual ability. Their first son died, and the second, Georges, was so feeble in constitution that his life was saved only by the tenderest care of his mother.

For this mother the boy cherished the most ardent affection. While she lived, there was nothing left undone that a loving nature could do for her. When she died, everything connected with her memory became sacred. When Cuvier had become honored by kings and nobles, when the great from all the world delighted to bring him offerings, nothing so touched his heart as the gift of a bouquet of red stocks, her favorite flower. Perchance the benignity that came into his face in later years was the result of these sweet remembrances.

She taught him to read at four, and, though ignorant of Latin, she made him repeat his lessons to her daily, so that he was the best prepared of any boy in school. She read to him history and general literature. She made him draw under her inspection. She talked with him about books till a passion for reading became the chief characteristic of his nature. No wonder that he loved such an inspiring woman. The history of most great men emphasizes the fact that the mothers cannot be too highly educated. At ten years of age he was placed in a high school, called a Gymnase, where for four years he studied Latin, Greek, history, geography, and mathematics, and was constantly at the head of his classes. Naturally enthusiastic, he played as heartily as he studied.

As is often the case, a book turned the course of his life, and made him famous. At the Gymnase he found a work of Gesner, the Swiss naturalist, and this, with its colored plates, first turned his attention to natural history. This liking was intensified by finding at the house of a relative the complete works of Buffon, the noted naturalist, who wrote thirty-six volumes in his own brilliant and poetic style, describing the animal kingdom. The boy became intensely interested in the habits of quadrupeds and birds; their form, their color, and their homes. He copied the illustrations in the work, and colored them with paint or pieces of silk. He always carried a volume of Buffon in his pocket to read when he had a moment of leisure. At twelve, he was a well-read naturalist.

In his last year in the Gymnase, when he was fourteen, he chose a certain number of his school-fellows, and formed an Academy. Every Thursday he gathered the lads into his room, and placing them around a table, seated himself upon his bed, and after some book had been read on natural history, philosophy, history, or travels, he asked their opinions of it, and then, being president, summed up the argument in a clear and concise manner. The mother's seed-sowing in the mind of her ardent boy was bearing fruit.

As the family were poor, and had only a soldier's pension to support them, it was decided that Georges should enter the free school at Tuebingen, and prepare for the church. But the principal of the Gymnase, who had never forgiven the boy for some playful trick, placed his composition in the third rank. Georges knew that it deserved the first rank, and that this low standard would affect his position in college. He, therefore, resolved not to enter Tuebingen, and, though he was thereby lost to the church, he was saved for great scientific work.

A fortunate thing now happened. A woman, a princess, who knew about the bright boy, spoke of him to her brother, Duke Charles of Wuertemberg. When the duke visited Montbeliard, he sent for the lad, questioned him as to what he had learned, asked to see his drawings, and ended by sending him free of expense to the University of Stuttgart, to enter his own Academy, called the Academy Caroline. It seemed a little thing for a lady to speak of a boy's studiousness and great love of books, but it proved a great thing for Georges Cuvier and for the scientific world. Thousands of women and men could do more of these little acts of kindness, if they only thought of it. Well said Thomas Hood:--

"Evil is wrought by want of thought,
As well as want of heart."

The boy of fourteen said good-by to his devoted mother, and started for Stuttgart, seated between the Chamberlain and the Secretary of the Grand Duke. Both spoke German all the way, and the lonesome boy did not understand a word. He entered the Academy May 4, 1784, and for four years studied mathematics, law, philosophy, finance, and the like.

But he lost no opportunity to study natural history. A professor gave him the works of Linnaeus, and he gained inspiration from the young man who could travel four thousand miles through the marshes of Lapland, nearly barefoot and half-starved, in his study of plants. Georges now collected a herbarium. When he had leisure, he drew and colored insects, birds, and flowers with great accuracy. He kept a number of living insects in his room, constantly feeding them, and watching their habits. He said years afterward, "If I had not studied insects from choice, when I was at college, I should have done so later, from a conviction of its necessity." He declared that the wonders he met with in the organization of insects always elevated his thoughts.

Nine months after his arrival in Germany, he won the prize at the Academy for excellence in the German language, receiving the order of Chevalerie, an honor given only to five or six out of four hundred pupils. This entitled the recipients to dine at a separate table, and to enjoy many advantages under the immediate patronage of the Grand Duke.

When the four years of college life were over, the father's pension having ceased on account of the disturbed financial condition of France, the youth of eighteen needed to find employment at once. Nothing seemed open to him but the position of tutor in a private family, a thing much deprecated by his school-fellows, who had already built many air-castles for his future.

But young Cuvier had the courage and the wisdom to do what necessity required, and to do it cheerfully. In July, 1788, he entered the family of Count d'Hericy in Caen, Normandy, and for six years taught his only son. He took with him, says a friend, "these admirable foundations for glory: a love of labor, depth of reflection, perseverance, and uprightness of character." While teaching here, he met the nobility of the surrounding country, increasing thereby his polish of manner and tact, for which he was celebrated all his life.

Living by the sea, he was led to study marine animals. The casual dissection of a calamar, a species of cuttle-fish, influenced him to study the anatomy of mollusca, which afterward led to his great classification of the whole animal kingdom. In this obscure corner of Normandy, the young teacher observed, and committed his observations to paper. Some young men would not have found time for such work. Those only succeed who have sufficient force of character to make time for what they wish to do. To allow one's time to be wasted, is to allow one's opportunities for eminence to go by forever.

Nearly every evening Cuvier attended a small society of which he was secretary, which gathered chiefly to discuss agricultural and kindred topics. M. Tessier, living there in exile under an assumed name, the author of several valuable articles in the Encyclopedia, was often present, and between him and the young secretary a warm friendship soon existed. As the friendship of the Marquis Guidubaldo proved valuable to Galileo, so that of M. Tessier proved of great benefit to Cuvier. He led the young and comparatively unknown naturalist, though some of his articles had been published in learned journals, to correspond with Geoffroy St. Hilaire, De Lacepede, and others on scientific subjects. Through their influence he was finally called to Paris, made a member of the Commission of Arts, and professor at the Central School of the Pantheon.

He was only twenty-six, and this was but the beginning of honors. Here he composed his "Elementary Treatise on the Natural History of Animals." His great desire was to be attached to the Museum of Natural History, where he could study the collections and enlarge them. Very soon after his arrival in Paris, M. Mertrud was appointed to the newly created chair of Comparative Anatomy at the Jardin des Plantes. He was advanced in years. And now came the opportunity for friendship to do its work. Geoffroy St. Hilaire and De Lacepede were his colleagues. They urged that their friend Cuvier be appointed assistant, and Mertrud gladly consented. This was indeed an honor, since Daubenton, Buffon, Lamarck, and other European celebrities had filled this position.

Cuvier at once sent for his aged father, now nearly eighty years old, and his only brother, Frederic, to make their home with him. The precious mother had died two years previously. She did not live to see the fame of her eldest son, but she must have been convinced of his future greatness, and been comforted by the prospect.

From the moment of entering upon his new work, Cuvier began to develop that wonderful collection in comparative anatomy which is now so celebrated. Nothing ever turned him from his purpose of making this the most extensive collection in the world; no sorrow, no legislative duties, no absence. No one who has visited Paris will ever forget the seventy-five acres in the Jardin des Plantes, with trees and flowers from all the world; with thirteen rooms filled with skeletons and anatomical preparations of all kinds; with eleven rooms in the gallery of anthropology containing every variety of the human species, in casts, mummies, and fossils; with the gallery of zooelogy containing over two thousand mammalia, belonging to five hundred species, as many reptiles, ten thousand birds, and over twenty-five hundred fishes; with immense geological, mineralogical, and botanical collections; all a marvel of industry and learning.

Cuvier now worked unceasingly. Sometimes his salary was in arrears, but he bore it cheerfully, as he wrote a friend: "You are not to suppose that Paris is so highly favored; for twelve months' pay are now due at the Jardin des Plantes, and all the national establishments for public instruction, in Paris as well as at Strasburg; and if we envy the elephants, it is not because they are better paid than we are, but because while living on credit, as we do, they are not aware of it, and consequently are insensible to the pain it gives. You know the saying about the French, that when they have no money they sing. We savants, who are not musicians, work at our sciences instead of singing, which comes to the same thing." He is a hero, indeed, who can breast poverty, and work and sing in the midst of hardship. When he published his "Annals of the Museum," he not only drew, but often engraved the plates himself, when he was unable, for lack of means, to hire it done.

The National Institution was founded in 1796, and Cuvier was associated with his friends De Lacepede and Daubenton, in the section of zooelogy, holding the position of Secretary of Natural Sciences till his death.

Four years later, in 1800, the first two volumes of his "Lessons in Comparative Anatomy" were published, and met with great success. The last three volumes were issued five years later.

In this year, 1800, Cuvier received another honor, that of the professorship of Natural Philosophy in the College de France. He was now but thirty-one. The following year, Napoleon I., who was usually wise in his selection of men, appointed him one of the six inspectors-general of education, to establish public schools in thirty towns of France.