Chapter VII: Part 7

That very day a letter was penned him, not this time by the wife, but by his father. "My affectionately beloved son: Mysterious are the ways of Providence. My heart is in pain and deeply sorrowful, while I announce to you the sudden and unexpected death of your dear and deservedly loved wife. Her death proved to be an _affection of the heart, incurable_ had it been known.... I wrote you yesterday that she was _convalescent_. So she then appeared and so the doctor pronounced. She was up about five o'clock yesterday afternoon, to have her bed made, as usual; was unusually cheerful and social; spoke of the pleasure of being with her dear husband in New York ere long; stepped into bed herself, fell back, with a momentary struggle, on her pillow; her eyes were immediately fixed, the paleness of death overspread her countenance, and in five minutes more, without the slightest motion, her mortal life terminated.

"It happened that, just at this moment, I was entering her chamber-door, with Charles in my arms, to pay her my usual visit, and to pray with her. The nurse met me affrighted, calling for help. Your mother, the family, and neighbors, full of the tenderest sympathy and kindness, and the doctor, thronged the house in a few minutes; everything was done that could be done, to save her life. But her appointed time had come, and no earthly skill or power could stay the hand of death. It was the Lord who gave her to you, the chiefest of all your earthly blessings, and it is he that has taken her away; and may you be enabled, my son, from the heart to say, 'Blessed be the name of the Lord!'"

The heart of Morse was well nigh broken. The woman he had idolized had gone from him in a moment. He wrote back to his father: "Oh, is it possible? is it possible? Shall I never see my dear wife again? But I cannot trust myself to write on the subject. I need your prayers, and those of Christian friends, to God for support. I fear I shall sink under it.

"Oh, take good care of her dear children!

"Your agonized son,
"FINLEY."

Travelling by stage, he did not reach New Haven till his wife had been buried a week. A month later he wrote to a friend: "I dare not yet give myself up to the full survey of its desolating effects; every day brings to my mind a thousand new and fond connections with dear Lucretia, all now ruptured. I feel a dreadful void, a heart-sickness, which time does not seem to heal, but rather to aggravate. You know the intensity of the attachment which existed between dear L. and me, never for a moment interrupted by the smallest cloud; an attachment founded, I trust, in the purest love, and daily strengthening by all the motives which the ties of _nature_ and more especially of _religion_ furnish.

"I found in dear L. everything that I could wish. Such ardor of affection, so uniform, so unaffected, I never saw nor read of, but in her. My fear with regard to the measure of my affection toward her, was not that I might fail of 'loving her as my own flesh,' but that I should put her in the place of Him who has said, 'Thou shalt have no other gods but me.' I felt this to be my greatest danger, and to be saved from this _idolatry_ was often the subject of my earnest prayers. If I had desired anything in my dear L. different from what she was, it would have been that she had been _less lovely_. My whole soul seemed wrapped up in her; with her was connected all that I expected of happiness on earth."

She was but twenty-five, and had shared only the sorrows and privations of her young husband. How pitiful it seemed that she could not live to share his grand success. Whatever may come into a man's life afterwards, he never forgets an affection like this. It blossoms in the warm sunlight of his youth; it never withers, even though other flowers take root in the heart.

Truly says George Eliot: "There is no despair so absolute as that which comes with the first moments of our first great sorrow, when we have not yet known what it is to have suffered and be healed, to have despaired and to have recovered hope."

This despair seemed to have settled upon Morse. He went back to New York, and now had plenty of work, but he said, "After being fatigued at night, and having my thoughts turned to my irreparable loss, I am ready almost to give up. The thought of seeing my dear Lucretia, and returning home to her, served always to give me fresh courage and spirits whenever I felt worn down by the labors of the day, and now I hardly know what to substitute in her place."

Hard, indeed, it seemed, that this "plenty of work" did not come in Lucretia's life-time. Why are so many of the best and sweetest things in this world a little too late in their coming? Is it because perfection attained is not best for mortals?

About this time the National Academy of Design was organized, and Morse was made president, holding this position for eighteen years, till his work on the telegraph required his whole attention. These years were extremely busy years. So numerous were his sitters, that he was obliged to send many to his artist friends. In his evenings he prepared a series of lectures on the Fine Arts, which he delivered to large and fashionable audiences at the New York Athenaeum. He also wrote at this time a life of Lucretia Maria Davidson, a young poet who died at Plattsburg, N. Y., when she was seventeen, and several pamphlets against the growing power of the Romish Church.

Four years after the death of his wife he sailed for Italy, still further to study his beloved art. In London he again met Rogers, the poet,--"he has not the proverbial lot of the poet,--he is not poor, for he is one of the wealthiest bankers, and lives in splendid style," said Morse,--Turner, "the best landscape-painter living," Irving, our secretary of legation, and other distinguished men.

For three years Morse remained in Europe, in Rome becoming the friend of Thorwaldsen, whose portrait he painted; in Florence, of Horatio Greenough, the sculptor, of James Fenimore Cooper, and many others. In Paris, Morse painted the "Gallery of the Louvre," working from nine till four daily, meeting Baron Humboldt, and receiving the cordial hospitality of General Lafayette.

October 1, 1832, he sailed from Havre, on the packet ship Sully, for New York. That passage marked an epoch not only in the life of S. F. B. Morse, but an epoch in American progress. At the dinner-table the conversation turned upon recent discoveries in electro-magnetism, and the experiments of Ampere with the electro-magnet. Morse said, "If the presence of electricity can be made visible in any part of the circuit," and he had seen that it could years before in the class-room at Yale College, "I see no reason why intelligence may not be transmitted instantaneously by electricity."

He thought the subject over as he walked upon the deck, and as he lay in his berth, too deeply interested to sleep. If intelligence could be transmitted, it could be recorded. He took from his pocket a note-book, and thought out his alphabet of dots and lines. He showed his sketches to his fellow-passengers,--not a wise thing, as it proved, when, later, one of the persons on board laid claim to the invention, causing some years of litigation.

When the vessel reached New York, Morse said, "Well, captain, should you hear of the telegraph one of these days as the wonder of the world, remember the discovery was made on board the good ship Sully."

Electricity had been known and studied since early times. It had been ascertained that the electric force could be stored up, as in the Leyden jar, and that it could be conducted through long metallic wires. The discovery of the Voltaic pile, or battery, in 1800, gave a great impetus to the study. Oersted of Copenhagen found that the position of the magnetic needle may be changed by the electric current, and that a magnet will induce electricity in a coil of wire. Schweigger of Halle discovered that "the deflection of the needle may be increased by coiling an insulated wire in a series of ovals or flat rings, compactly disposed, in a loop, and conducting the current around the needle from end to end." Ampere developed the theory of electro-magnetism, and proposed to the French Academy in 1820 a plan for a telegraph, in which there was to be a needle for each letter.

In 1827 Morse had listened to a course of lectures, given by Prof. James Freeman Dana, upon these matters, so that the subject was still fresh in his mind when he crossed the ocean in the Sully. Prof. Joseph Henry's important discoveries were also well known.

Says Prof. E. N. Horsford of Cambridge, Mass., in the admirable life of Morse written by Dr. Samuel Irenaeus Prime: "He knew generally, when he stepped on board the Sully, in 1832, that a soft-iron horseshoe-shaped bar of iron could be rendered magnetic while a current of galvanic electricity was passing through a wire wound round it; and he knew that electricity had been transmitted, apparently instantaneously, through wires of great length, by Franklin and others.... In the leisure of ship-life the idea of a _recording_ electric telegraph seized Professor Morse's mind, and he gave expression to his conviction that it was _possible_. As it was possible to _dispatch_ and to _arrest_ the current, he conceived that some device could be found for compelling it to manifest itself by this intermittent action, and produce a record.

"He knew, for he had witnessed it years before, that by means of a battery and an electro-magnet reciprocal motion could be produced. He knew that the force which produced it could be transmitted along a wire. He _believed_ that the battery current could be made, through an electro-magnet, to produce physical effects at a _distance_. He saw in his mind's eye the existence of an agent and a medium by which reciprocal motion could be not only produced, but _controlled_, at a _distance_. The question that addressed itself to him at the outset was naturally this: 'How can I make use of the simple up-and-down motion of opening and closing a circuit to write an intelligible message at one end of a wire, and at the same time print it at the other?'...

"Like many a kindred work of genius, it was in nothing more wonderful than in its simplicity. First, he caused a continuous ribbon or strip of paper to move under a pencil by clock-work, that could be wound up. The paper moved horizontally. The pencil moved only up and down; when resting on the paper it made a mark--if for an instant only, a dot; if for a longer time, a line. When lifted from the paper it left a blank.... The grandeur of this wonderful alphabet of dots, lines, and spaces has not been fully appreciated....

"Not one of all the brilliant scientific men who have attached their names to the history of electro-magnetism had brought the means to produce the practical registering telegraph. Some of them had ascended the tower that looked out on the field of conquest. Some of them brought keener vision than others. Some of them stood higher than others; but the genius of invention had not recognized them. There was needed an inventor."

As soon as Morse left the ship Sully, and met his brothers Richard and Sidney, he told them that he had made an important invention, "one that would astonish the world, and of the success of which he was perfectly sanguine." He became an inmate of Richard's house, living there several months.

From this time onward for twelve years he labored to give his telegraph to mankind; labored in the midst of distressing poverty, the ridicule of acquaintances, and the indifference of the world. Three motherless children were dependent upon him, but he could do little for them.

On the corner of Nassau and Beekman Streets, in the newspaper building erected by his brothers,--they were the editors and proprietors of the "New York Observer,"--in the fifth story, a room was assigned to him which he used for studio, sleeping-room, kitchen, and workshop. On one side was his cot, on the other his tools and crude machine. He whittled the models, and then made the moulds and castings. Here, from day to day, the simplest food was brought him, he preparing his own tea.

In the year 1835, having been appointed professor of the Literature of the Arts of Design in the New York City University, he took rooms in the third story of the university building. "There," he says, "I immediately commenced, with very limited means, to experiment upon my invention. My first instrument was made up of an old picture or canvas frame fastened to a table; the wheels of an old wooden clock, moved by a weight to carry the paper forward; three wooden drums, upon one of which the paper was wound and passed over the other two; a wooden pendulum suspended to the top piece of the picture or stretching-frame, and vibrating across the paper as it passes over the centre wooden drum; a pencil at the lower end of the pendulum, in contact with the paper; an electro-magnet fastened to a shelf across the picture or stretching-frame, opposite to an armature made fast to the pendulum; a type rule, and type for breaking the circuit, resting on an endless band, composed of carpet-binding, which passed over two wooden rollers, moved by a wooden crank, and carried forward by points projecting from the bottom of the rule downward into the carpet-binding; a lever, with a small weight on the upper side; and a tooth, projecting downward at one end, operated on by the type; and a metallic fork, also projecting downward over two mercury-cups; and a short circuit of wire, embracing the helices of the electro-magnet connected with the positive and negative poles of the battery, and terminating in the mercury-cups."

Morse was now so poor that he bought his food in small quantities from some grocery, and prepared it himself. He says, "To conceal from my friends the stinted manner in which I lived, I was in the habit of bringing my food to my room in the evenings, and this was my mode of life for many years."

In this year, 1835, says Professor Horsford, "Morse made his discovery of the _relay_, the most brilliant of all the achievements to which his name must be forever attached. It was the discovery of a means by which the current, which through distance from its source had become feeble, could be reenforced or renewed. This discovery, according to the different objects for which it is employed, is variously known as the registering magnet, the local circuit, the marginal circuit, the repeater, etc. It made transmission from one point on a main line through indefinitely great distances, and through an indefinite number of branch lines, and to an indefinite number of way-stations, and registration at all, possible and practicable, from a single act of a single operator."

Poor, longing for money to carry forward his plans, despondent lest some one think out a kindred machine and supplant him, Morse was also suffering from injustice in his art work. Our government having offered to American artists commissions to paint pictures for the panels in the Rotunda of the Capitol, the friends of Morse urged that he, as the president of the National Academy of Design, be one of the artists chosen by the committee. John Quincy Adams, ex-President of the United States, and one of the committee, urged that foreign artists be allowed to compete, stating that no American artists were competent for the work. This, of course, gave offence, and James Fenimore Cooper wrote a severe article, in the "New York Evening Post," upon Mr. Adams's remarks. The article was attributed to Morse, and his name was rejected by the committee. This was a great disappointment.

He said, years afterward, "The blow I received from Congress ... has almost destroyed my enthusiasm for my art.... I have not painted a picture since that decision.... When I applied to paint one of the Rotunda pictures, I was in my full vigor. I had just returned from three years' hard study in Italy, ... and felt a consciousness of ability to execute a work creditable to my country. I hazarded everything almost for this single object. When so unexpectedly I was repelled, I staggered under the blow. I have endeavored in every way to prevent its effects upon my mind; but it is a thorn which perpetually obtrudes its point, and would goad me to death were it not for its aspect in the light of God's overruling providence. Then all is right."

From time to time prominent men came to the university, to see the telegraph. They saw, thought it wonderful, doubted its practicability, and did not offer to invest any money in the enterprise. Finally, in 1837, Mr. Alfred Vail, a young graduate of the University of the City of New York, became interested, helped to construct an improved machine at his father's brass-works at Speedwell, N. J., for Morse to take to Washington for exhibition, and provided the means for his going.

After five long years, Morse had finally found some one ready to help. Arriving at Washington, he obtained the use of the room of the Committee on Commerce, to show his telegraph. Congressmen came, wondered, and went away doubting.

He now caused a respectful memorial to be presented to Congress, asking an appropriation of thirty thousand dollars, to test the telegraph between two cities. The petition was referred to a committee, quietly ignored, and Morse heard no more concerning it.

He sailed for Europe in 1838, to take out a patent for his work, but could obtain none in England, as Wheatstone and Cooke had already patented a magnetic-needle telegraph, entirely unlike that of Morse, invented four years later, says Professor Horsford, but brought before the public about the same time, 1837. In point of active use, Wheatstone's preceded Morse's telegraph by six years, on account of the indifference of Congress in helping the inventor.

In Paris, Morse submitted his telegraph to the Institute, and Arago, Humboldt, and others were delighted with it. As Morse was sending a word from one room to the other, Robert Walsh said to him, "The next word you may write is 'IMMORTALITY,' for the sublimity of this invention is of surpassing grandeur. I see now that all physical obstacles, which may for a while hinder, will inevitably be overcome. The problem is solved; MAN MAY INSTANTLY CONVERSE WITH HIS FELLOW-MAN IN ANY PART OF THE WORLD."

Morse returned to New York after eleven months, disappointed that Congress had done nothing, "without," as he said, "a farthing in my pocket, and have to borrow even for my meals." In Paris, having learned from M. Daguerre, the inventor of the daguerreotype, the process, Morse introduced it in this country, and earned enough by taking pictures to reimburse him for his European journey. Many crowded to his rooms to be taught, and he cheerfully imparted the knowledge he possessed.

As the months went by and Congress did nothing, Morse became despondent. He had not the means even to pay postage on letters. He said, "I am sick at heart.... I feel at times almost ready to cast the whole matter to the winds, and turn my attention forever from the subject." The Vails were unable to help the enterprise further, at present. Morse was still teaching a few pupils at the university. Gen. Strother, of Virginia, "Porte Crayon," thus tells of Morse's pecuniary condition: "He was very poor. I remember that when my second quarter's pay was due, my remittance from home did not come as expected; and one day the professor came in, and said, courteously:

"'Well, Strother, my boy, how are we off for money?'

"'Why, professor,' I answered, 'I am sorry to say I have been disappointed; but I expect a remittance next week.'

"'Next week,' he repeated, sadly; 'I shall be dead by that time.'

"'Dead, sir?'

"'Yes, dead by starvation!'

"I was distressed and astonished. I said, hurriedly: 'Would ten dollars be of any service?'

"'Ten dollars would save my life; that is all it would do.'

"I paid the money, all that I had, and we dined together. It was a modest meal, but good, and, after he had finished, he said: 'This is my first meal in twenty-four hours. Strother, don't be an artist. It means beggary. Your life depends upon people who know nothing of your art, and care nothing for you. A house-dog lives better, and the very sensitiveness that stimulates an artist to work keeps him alive to suffering.'"

Even the janitor of the University building said to a young man who was looking for a studio for himself: "You will have an artist for your neighbor, though he is not here much of late; he seems to be getting rather shiftless, he is wasting his time over some silly invention, a machine by which he expects to send messages from one place to another. He is a very good painter, and might do well if he would only stick to his business; but, Lord!" he added, with a sneer of contempt, "the idea of telling by a little streak of lightning what a body is saying at the other end of it!"

"Judge of my astonishment," says the young man, "when he informed me that the 'shiftless individual,' whose foolish waste of time so much excited his commiseration, was none other than the president of the National Academy of Design,--the most exalted position, in my youthful artistic fancy, it was possible for mortal to attain."

Once more, in some way, Morse obtained the money to go to Washington, and make another effort. December 30, 1842, a bill was at last submitted, asking for the thirty-thousand-dollar appropriation. It received much ridicule from some of the members. One suggested that there should be an appropriation for mesmeric experiments; another suggested the same for Millerism. At last the vote was taken in the House, Morse sitting in the gallery watching the result with feverish anxiety. The vote stood 89 yeas to 83 nays. IT WAS CARRIED.

Would it pass the Senate? The amount of business to be transacted made its coming up improbable. The last day of the session came. Morse sat all the day and evening in the gallery, and finally went to his hotel, nearly prostrated from disappointment.

In the morning, as he came down to breakfast, Annie G. Ellsworth, the daughter of his old friend, the Commissioner of Patents, came toward him with a bright smile, saying: "I have come to congratulate you!"

"For what, my dear friend?"

"On the passage of your bill."

Morse could scarcely believe the good news, that the bill had passed, in the last moments of the session, without opposition. He was nearly overcome with joy, and told the young lady that she should send the first message over the first line.

He at once proceeded to construct the first line of his electric telegraph between Washington and Baltimore. Ezra Cornell, later one of the most successful constructors and largest proprietors of telegraphs, and the founder of Cornell University, was employed at a salary of one thousand dollars a year.

After many perplexities, the line was completed. On May 24, 1844, Morse invited his friends to assemble in the chamber of the United States Supreme Court, where he had his instrument in connection with Baltimore. Annie Ellsworth's mother had suggested to her these words from the Bible, for the first message: "What hath God wrought!" No words could have been more in accordance with Morse's feelings. Taking his seat at the instrument, he spelled out the words, and instantly they were received by Mr. Vail in Baltimore, who resent them the same moment to Washington. The strip of paper on which this message is printed is now in the Athenaeum at Hartford, Conn.

What must have been Professor Morse's feelings at that moment. The day of triumph had come--the twelve weary years of poverty were over. Hereafter he was to be like one of the princes of the world.

A telegraph company was formed which offered to sell the telegraph to the government for one hundred thousand dollars. Congress refused to buy, much to the subsequent profit of the Morse company. In less than thirty years, the Morse telegraph was used in America upon two hundred and fifty thousand miles of wire, and in foreign countries upon six hundred thousand miles of wire, while the telegraph receipts throughout the world were about forty million dollars yearly.

There were many amusing incidents in connection with this early telegraph. "A pretty little girl tripped into the Washington City termination, and, after a great deal of hesitation and blushing, asked how long it would take to send to Baltimore. The interesting appearance of the little questioner attracted Mr. Morse's attention, and he very blandly replied, '_One second!_'

"'Oh, how delightful, how delightful!' ejaculated the little beauty, her eyes glistening with delight. 'One second only; here, send this even _quicker_ if you can.' And Mr. Morse found in his hand a neatly folded, gilt-edged note, the very perfume and shape of which told a volume of love.

"'I cannot send this note,' said Mr. Morse, with some feeling; 'it is impossible.'

"'Oh, do, _do!_' implored the distracted girl. 'William and I have had a quarrel, and I shall die if he don't know that I forgive him in a second. I know I shall.'

"Mr. Morse still objected to sending the note, when the fair one, brightening up, asked, 'You will, then, send _me_ on, won't you?'

"'Perhaps,' said one of the clerks, 'it would take your breath away to travel forty miles in a second.'

"'Oh, no, it won't! no, it won't, if it carries me to William! The cars in the morning go _so slow_ I can't wait for them.'

"Mr. Morse now comprehended the mistake which the petitioner was laboring under, and attempted to explain the process of conveying important information along the wires. The letter-writer listened a few moments, impatiently, and then rolled her burning epistle into a ball, in the excitement under which she labored, and thrust it into her bosom.

"'It's too slow!' she finally exclaimed; 'it's too slow! and my heart will break before William knows I forgive him; and you are a cruel man, Mr. Morse,' said the fair creature, the tears coming into her eyes, 'that you won't let me travel by the telegraph to see William.' And, full of emotion, she left the office."

All these years Morse was longing for a home. In 1845 he wrote his daughter, who was now married and living in Porto Rico, in the West Indies, "I do long for the time, if it shall be permitted, to have you, with your husband and little Charles, around me; I feel my loneliness more and more keenly every day. Fame and money are, in themselves, a poor substitute for domestic happiness: as means to that end, I value them. Yesterday was the sad anniversary (the twentieth) of your dear mother's death, and I spent the most of it in thinking of her."

Two years later he purchased two hundred acres on the Hudson River, near Poughkeepsie, calling it "Locust Grove," and built a handsome and spacious Italian villa for his residence. With the telegraph in his library, he could now converse with men in all parts of the world. Here he gathered his children and grandchildren around him. He was now fifty-six years old. Fame and money had come late in life. The next year he married Miss Sarah E. Griswold, the daughter of his cousin, a lady thirty years his junior.

His life here was peaceful and happy, most of the day being spent in reading and writing. He was very fond of nature. One of his daughters writes: "He loved flowers. He would take one in his hand, and talk for hours about its beauty, its wonderful construction, and the wisdom and love of God in making so many varied forms of life and color to please our eyes. In his later years he became deeply interested in the microscope, and purchased one of great excellence and power. For whole hours, all the afternoon or evening, he would sit over it, examining flowers, or the animalcula in different fluids. Then he would gather his children about him, and give us a sort of _extempore_ lecture on the wonders of creation, invisible to the naked eye, but so clearly brought to view by the magnifying power of the microscope.

"He was very fond of animals, cats and birds in particular. He tamed a little flying-squirrel, and it became so fond of him that it would sit on his shoulder while he was at his studies, and would eat out of his hand, and sleep in his pocket. To this little animal he became so much attached that we took it with us to Europe, where it came to an untimely end, in Paris, by running into an open fire."

In New York he bought a large house, No. 5 West Twenty-second Street, for his winter residence, and, on a vacant lot adjoining, erected an elegant building for his library and study. What a contrast between this and the time when "Porte Crayon" gave him ten dollars, which Morse said would save his life!

Honors now poured in upon him. In 1835 he had been elected a member of the Historical Institute of France.

In 1837, a member of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts of Belgium.

In 1839 the Great Silver Medal of the Academy of Industry of Paris was voted him.

In 1841, a corresponding member of the National Institution for the Promotion of Science at Washington.

In 1842, the gold medal of the American Institute.

In 1845, a corresponding member of the Archaeological Society of Belgium.

In 1846, Doctor of Laws by Yale College.

In 1848, the first decoration ever bestowed by the Sultan of Turkey upon a citizen of the United States, _Nishan Iftikar_, in diamonds; he was also made a member of the American Philosophical Society, Philadelphia.

In 1849, a Fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, Boston.

In 1851, a golden snuff-box containing the Prussian golden medal for scientific merit.

In 1852, the Great Gold Medal of Arts and Sciences from the King of Wuertemberg.

In 1855, the Great Gold Medal of Science and Art from the Emperor of Austria.

In 1856, the brevet and decoration as Chevalier of the Imperial Order of the Legion of Honor, from the Emperor of France.

In 1856, the Cross of the Order of Dannebrog from the King of Denmark.

In 1858, a member of the Royal Academy of Sciences in Sweden.

In 1859, the order of knighthood and Commander of the First Class of the Royal Order of Isabella the Catholic, from Isabella II. of Spain.

In 1860, Knight of the Tower and Sword, from the King of Portugal.

In 1864, Chevalier of the Royal Order of Saints Lazaro and Mauritio, from Victor Emmanuel II., King of Italy.

In 1866, honorary member of the Societe de Physique et d'Histoire Naturelle of Geneva, Switzerland.

In 1857, Morse aided in the attempt to lay the Atlantic cable, being made electrician of the company. This was eminently fitting, as he had laid the first submarine cable, in 1842, October 18; one moonlight night in the harbor of New York City, between Castle Garden and Governor's Island.

In 1858, France, Austria, Belgium, the Netherlands, Piedmont, Russia, the Holy See, Sweden, Tuscany, and Turkey presented Mr. Morse with an honorary gratuity of four hundred thousand francs, "as a reward, altogether personal, of your useful labors."

During an extended trip in Europe, he was presented at the Court of Alexander III. in Russia, and met Baron Humboldt at Potsdam, from whom he received a large photograph of himself, on which he wrote in French: "To Mr. S. F. B. Morse, whose philosophic and useful labors have rendered his name illustrious in two worlds. The homage of the high and affectionate esteem of Alexander Humboldt." After also visiting his daughter in the West Indies, his return to Poughkeepsie in 1859 was made by the people a time of rejoicing. Crowds flocked to the station to welcome him. The children of the public schools joined in the procession, while bells rung, flags waved, and bands played, as they followed the carriage of Professor Morse to the gateway of his residence, which had been festooned with flowers and evergreens. Was ever a man more honored? The world loves heroes, though it takes very little pains to help men or women to achieve greatness.

In 1866, Morse crossed the ocean again to give his children the opportunity of study abroad. He was now seventy-five years old, yet seemingly as vigorous as ever. At the Paris Exposition he was one of the committee upon telegraphic instruments. At Duesseldorf, he was received with great enthusiasm by the artists of the city. He purchased there five valuable pictures, as he was now in circumstances to be a patron of art. He also purchased Allston's celebrated painting of "Jeremiah," for seven thousand dollars, and gave it to Yale College; a portrait of Allston, at five hundred dollars, he presented to the Academy of Design. Thus did he remember the man who had been his friend in his young manhood.

Morse also gave to the Union Theological Seminary, in the city of New York, ten thousand dollars, endowing a lectureship on the "Relation of the Bible to the Sciences," named in honor of his father.

In 1868, a public dinner was given Professor Morse in New York, by the distinguished men of the day. Chief Justice Chase presided, and made an able address. After recounting the discoveries of others in electricity, "not least illustrious among these illustrious men, our countryman Henry," he said: "And it is the providential distinction and splendid honor of the eminent American who is our guest to-night that, happily prepared by previous acquirements and pursuits, he was quick to seize the opportunity, and give to the world the first recording telegraph. Fortunate man! thus to link his name forever with the greatest wonder and the greatest benefit of the age!" Other addresses were made by Bryant, Evarts, and many prominent men.

In 1871, June 10, a bronze statue of Professor Morse was unveiled in Central Park, the money for it being raised, in small amounts, from telegraphic operatives all over the country. In the evening, a brilliant reception was tendered him in the Academy of Music, the following despatch being sent on his ORIGINAL register: "GREETING AND THANKS TO THE TELEGRAPHIC FRATERNITY THROUGHOUT THE LAND. GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST, ON EARTH PEACE, GOOD-WILL TO MEN."

And then the white-haired Morse, now eighty years old, took his seat at the instrument, and signed his name to his message--"S. F. B. Morse." The entire audience rose and cheered, and many eyes filled with tears, as he gave his farewell address.

The last time Mr. Morse appeared in public was when he unveiled the statue of Benjamin Franklin in Printing-House Square, in front of the City Hall, January 17, 1872.

Death came in a few weeks. To his pastor, Rev. Dr. Adams, he said in response to a remark concerning the goodness of God to him in the past, "The best is yet to come."

Near the last, when the physicians were inspecting his lungs, and tapping upon his breast, one said, "This is the way we doctors telegraph."

"Very good," said the dying man, and passed away, April 2, 1872.

He was buried with distinguished honors from Madison Square Presbyterian Church, New York. Scientific, philanthropic, and religious institutions everywhere adopted resolutions of respect for his memory. A solemn service was held in the hall of the House of the Representatives at Washington, April 16, with appropriate addresses from Garfield and others. An oil painting of Professor Morse hung in front of the main gallery, surrounded by the historic words, "What hath God wrought!" Telegraphic messages were sent from Europe, Asia, and Africa, to this memorial meeting. Did any of those present remember how Congress allowed him nearly to die of despair and want, only a few years before? Truly a life that reads like a romance, in its misfortunes and its fortunes! Through all the days of poverty, as well as prosperity, Morse preserved his earnest Christian character, and his childlike, tender, loving nature. Trials did not embitter him, as they sometimes do, and honors did not exalt him above his fellows. American history does not furnish a more sublime illustration of faith in God and indomitable perseverance.

SIR CHARLES LYELL.

Galileo studied and found out the truth that the earth moves around the sun, and died recanting it.

Buffon, the great French naturalist, studied, and ascertained that the earth has been subject to changes which must have required millions of years. He wrote: "The waters of the sea have produced the mountains and valleys of the land--the waters of the heavens, reducing all to a level, will at last deliver the whole land over to the sea, and the sea, successively prevailing over the land, will leave dry new continents like those which we inhabit."

He was at once summoned before the Faculty of Theology in Paris to recant his opinions, saying, "I declare that I had no intention to contradict the text of Scripture; that I believe most firmly all therein related about the creation, both as to order of time and matter of fact; _I abandon everything in my book respecting the formation of the earth_, and, generally, all which may be contrary to the narration of Moses."

A little more than a century later, at Kinnordy, Forfarshire, Scotland, a boy was born, Charles Lyell, who was destined not only to make geology as fascinating to the world as a novel, but to prove more fully and conclusively than any one had previously done that the world is not only six thousand years old, but perhaps six thousand million years old; and that man has lived here not for a few centuries only, but for thousands of centuries. Lyell knew and felt what the Christian world has come to feel, that truth must and will stand, and that there is no real conflict between science and religion.

Charles Lyell, the eldest of ten children, having two brothers and seven sisters, was born November 14, 1797. He had the early training of an educated and refined father, a man who had devoted himself to the study of botany, and written several works on Dante. The mother was a woman of practical common-sense, and from her, doubtless, Charles inherited that good judgment which characterized all his work and life.

At seven the child was sent to Ringwood, to a school kept by Rev. R. S. Davies. Here, being the youngest, and one of the gentlest, he was spared the roughness too often found in boys' schools. At ten he and his brother Tom were sent to a school in Salisbury, sixteen miles from Bartley Lodge, whither the family had moved from Kinnordy.

Though they missed their favorite sport of hay-making, they enjoyed walks to Old Sarum, a famous camp of Roman times. Here the boys amused themselves by heaping up piles of chalk flints on the opposite ridges, and letting them roll down, and dash against each other like two armies.

The teacher, Dr. Radcliffe, was called "Bluebeard," from having his fourth wife. The boys, however, liked him, because he had the rare merit of being impartial, while they were never tired of annoying another teacher, who had his favorites. Says Lyell of these early days, "Monsieur Borelle's room was within one in which I and eight others slept. One night, when we were very angry with him for having spatted us all round with a ruler, for a noise in the schoolroom which only _one_ had made, and no one would confess, we determined to be revenged. We balanced a great weight of heavy volumes on the top of the door, so that no one could open it without their falling on his head. He was caught like a mouse in a trap, and threw a book in a rage at each boy's head, as they lay shamming sound asleep.

"Another stratagem of mine and young Prescott (son of Sir G. P.) was to tie a string across the room from the legs of two beds, so as to trip him up; from this string others branched off, the ends of which were fixed to the great toes of two sound sleepers, so that when Monsieur drew the lines, they woke, making a great outcry. At last we wearied him out, and he went and slept elsewhere.

"I conclude that there were far too many hours allotted to sleep at this school, for at all others we were glad to sleep after the labors of the day, and got punished for late rising in the morning, and being too late for roll-call. Here, on the contrary, a great many of our best sports were at night, particularly one, which, as very unique and one which lasted all the time I was there, I must describe. It consisted of fighting, either in single combat, or whole rooms against others, with _bolsters_. These were shaken until all the contents were at one end, and then they were kept there by a girth of string or stockings. This made a formidable weapon, the empty end being the handle, and the ball at the other would hit a good blow, or coil round a fellow's leg, and by a jerk pull him up so that he fell backwards.... The invading party were always to station a watch at the head of the stairs, to give notice of the approach of 'Bluebeard,' for he was particularly severe against this warfare, though he never succeeded in putting it down. He used to come up with a cane, which, as none were clothed, took dire effect on those caught out of bed. He had a fortunate twist in his left foot, which made his step recognizable at a distance, and his shoe to creak loudly. This offence was high treason, not only because it led to broken heads, and made a horrible row in the night, but because Mrs. Radcliffe found that it made her _bolsters_ wear out most rapidly."

Charles grew ill at Salisbury, and was taken home for three months. "I began," he says, "to get annoyed with _ennui_, which did not improve my health, for I was always most exceedingly miserable if unemployed, though I had an excessive aversion to work unless forced to it. It happened that, a little before this time, my father had for a short time exchanged botany for entomology, a fit which only lasted just long enough to induce him to purchase some books on the latter subject, after which he threw it up; principally, I believe, from a dislike to kill the insects. I did not like this _department_ of the subject either....

"Collecting insects was just the sort of desultory occupation which suited me at that time, as it gave sufficient employment to my mind and body, was full of variety, and to see a store continually increasing gratified what in the cant phrase of the phrenologist is termed the 'accumulative propensity.' I soon began to know what was rare, and to appreciate specimens by this test. In the evenings I used to look over 'Donovan's Insects,' a work in which a great number of the British species are well given in colored plates, but which has no scientific merit. This was a royal road of arriving at the names, and required no study, but mere looking at pictures. At first I confined my attention to the Lepidoptera (butterflies, moths, etc.), as the most beautiful, but soon became fond of watching the singular habits of the aquatic insects, and used to sit whole mornings by a pond, feeding them with flies, and catching them if I could.

"I had no companion to share this hobby with me, no one to encourage me in following it up, yet my love for it continued always to increase, and it afforded a most varied source of amusement.... Instead of sympathy, I received from almost every one else beyond my home either ridicule, or hints that the pursuits of other boys were more manly.... The disrepute in which my hobby was held had a considerable effect upon my character, for I was very sensitive of the good opinions of others, and therefore followed it up almost by stealth; so that, although I never confessed to myself that I was wrong, but always reasoned myself into a belief that the generality of people were too stupid to comprehend the interest of such pursuits; yet, I got too much in the habit of avoiding being seen, as if I was ashamed of what I did."

The temporary ill-health of the schoolboy led to the long hours of observation of nature; these led to a devotion to science, which brought a worldwide fame. Thus, often, that which seems a hindrance in life proves a blessing in the end.

At twelve, Charles was placed in a school where there were seventy boys, with much fagging and fighting. That this roughness was not in accordance with his noble and refined nature is shown by his words, years afterwards: "Whatever some may say or sing of the happy recollections of their school days, I believe the generality, if they told the truth, would not like to have them over again, or would consider them as less happy than those which follow.... The recollection of it makes me bless my stars I have not to go through it again.

"My ambition," he says, "during the second half-year was excited by finding myself rising near the top of a class of fifteen boys in which I was; and when miserable, as I often was, with the kicks and cuffs I received, I got into a useful habit of thinking myself happy when I got a high number in the class-paper." Each year he received a prize for speaking, and often prizes for Latin and English original composition.

At seventeen young Lyell entered Exeter College, Oxford. He still devoted many hours to entomology, and took some honors in classics. A book, as is often the case, had already helped to shape his life. He had found and read, in his father's library, Bakewell's "Geology," and was greatly excited over the views there expressed about the antiquity of the earth. Dr. Buckland, Professor of Geology at Oxford, was then at the height of his fame, and Lyell at once attended a course of his lectures and took notes.

College life was having its influence over the youth, for he wrote to his father: "It is the seeing the superiority of others that convinces one how much is to be and must be done to get any fame; and it is this which spurs the emulation, and feeds that 'Atmosphere of Learning,' which Sir Joshua Reynolds admirably describes as 'floating round all public institutions, and which even the idle often breathe in, and then wonder how they came by it.'"

And yet Lyell, like most students, found it a difficult matter to decide what was best for a life-pursuit. His father wished him to study law. In reply, the son says: "As for the confidence and quickness which you were speaking of, as one of the chief requisites of the Bar, I don't know whether intercourse with the world will supply it, but God knows, I have little enough of it now in company."

During his college course, Lyell made a journey with some friends to Staffa, and wrote a poem upon the place, and then, with his parents and his eldest sisters, travelled in France, Switzerland, and Italy. Here, in the midst of art and beautiful scenery, his mind still turned toward science. He thought the collections in comparative anatomy in the Jardin des Plantes, in Paris, would tempt any one to "take up ardently the study of anatomy." In Cuvier's lecture-room, filled with fossil remains, he found "three glorious relics of a former world, which have added several new genera to the Mammalia."

In the Jura chain he concluded the limestone to be "of a different age from what we passed through before Dijon, for the latter abounded in organic remains, whereas I could not discover one fossil in the Jura. By the roadside I picked up many beautiful petrifactions, which must be forming daily here, where the water is charged plentifully with lime."

"The rock of the Col de Balme," he said, "is a brown, ligneous slate, with some veins of white quartz intersecting it: the appearance is very curious. On the top was the richest carpet of turf I ever saw, spangled with thousands of the deep blue gentian, red trefoil, and other mountain flowers." Nothing said about law, but much about rocks!

At twenty-two Lyell graduated from Oxford. The same year he became a Fellow of the Geological Society of London, and also of the Linnaean Society, and, in accordance with his father's preference, began the study of law in London.

But the way to success is almost never easy. Lyell's eyes became very weak, and he was obliged to desist from reading, and go to Rome with his father. Many a young man, well-to-do, would have given up a profession, preferring a life of leisure. Not so Charles Lyell. On his return he inspected Romney Marsh, an extensive tract of land, formerly covered by the sea, and also the Isle of Wight, and wrote his first scientific paper on the geology of some rivers near his native place in Forfarshire. At twenty-six he was made secretary of the Geological Society. Already such men as Dr. Buckland felt the deepest interest in the enterprising young student, who was devoting himself to original research.

And now he was going to Paris, to perfect himself in French. Dr. Buckland and others gave him letters of introduction to such persons as Humboldt and Cuvier. Fortunate young Lyell! Such men would fan the flame of aspiration to a white heat.

Once in Paris, the stimulus of great minds did its accustomed work--developed and beautified another mind. He attended a levee at Alexander Brongniart's, "who among the English geologists has the highest reputation both for knowledge and agreeable manners of all the French _savans_," he wrote home to his father. Again he wrote: "My reception at Cuvier's last Saturday will make me feel myself at liberty to attend his _soirees_ next week, and they are a great treat. He was very polite, and invited me to attend the Institute on Monday. There he introduced me to several geologists, and put me in an excellent place for hearing....

"Humboldt addressed me, as Duvau had done, with, 'I have the honor of being familiar with your name, as your father has labored with no small success in botany, particularly the cryptogamiae....' He was not a little interested in hearing me detail the critiques which our geologists have made on his last geological work,--a work which would give him a rank in science if he had never published aught besides. He made me a present of his work, and I was surprised to find how much he has investigated the details of our English strata.... He appears to work hard at astronomy, and lives in a garret for the sake of that study. The King of Prussia invited him to adorn his court at the last Congress; thence he went to Vesuvius just after the grand eruption, and brought away much geological information on that head, which he was good enough to communicate to me. He speaks English well. I attend lectures at the Jardin du Roi, on mining, geology, chemistry, and zooelogy, all gratis! by the first men.... I have promised Humboldt to pass the afternoon to-day in his study. His new edition serves as a famous lesson to me, in the comparison of England and the Continent. There are few heroes who lose so little by being approached as Humboldt."

Who shall estimate the value of such a friendship to a young man! It was a foregone conclusion that Lyell and Agassiz and Liebig, and others, who sought the society of such as Humboldt, and were _willing to work_, would come to greatness.

Cuvier introduced Lyell to Professor Van Breda of Ghent, who gave him letters to all the Dutch universities,--Ghent, Amsterdam, Haarlem, and Leyden.