Chapter IX: Part 9

This was indeed a wonderful gift,--and from a stranger! Difficulties at once presented themselves. How could the property be used "for the increase and diffusion of knowledge among men"? "For ten years," says Garfield, "Congress wrestled with those nine words of Smithson, and could not handle them. Some political philosophers of that period held that we had no constitutional authority to accept the gift at all, and proposed to send it back to England. Every conceivable proposition was made."

John Quincy Adams desired a great astronomical observatory. One person wished an agricultural school; another, a college for women; another, that the funds should be devoted to meteorological observations all over the Union. Finally, a board of regents was appointed, with power to choose a suitable person as secretary.

He must be a learned man, a wise financier, with good judgment and pleasant manners. Professor Henry fulfilled all the conditions. He was admired for his learning; in finance he was wise, as thirty years have proved, the institute with its endowment now being valued at one and a half million dollars; his kindly manner made him accessible, willing to listen to any one who hoped or believed he had discovered something in the line of knowledge. A man who can be harsh or cold to an ignorant person, or indeed to anybody, does not deserve to hold any public position. With natural quickness of temper in early life, he had gained remarkable self-control. Like Baron Cuvier, he had no tolerance for sarcasm or "practical jokes." Henry was unanimously chosen, entering upon his duties December 3, 1846. He had a definite plan of the work which ought to be done, and "after due deliberation it received the almost unanimous approval of the scientific world."

He believed that the money should be used in original scientific work; by helping men to publish the results of such work; to aid in varied explorations; to send scientific publications all over the world. The institution is now the principal agent of scientific and literary communication between the old world and the new. The number of foreign institutions and correspondents receiving the Smithsonian publications exceeds two thousand, scattered from New Zealand and India to Yokohama, in Japan, and Cape Town, in Southern Africa. The weight of matter sent abroad for ten years, ending 1877, was ninety-nine thousand pounds. Among the first subjects taken up by the institution for investigation was that of American archaeology, an attempt to ascertain the industrial, social, and intellectual character of the earliest races on our continent. The first publication of "Smithsonian Contributions" was a work on the mounds and earthworks found in the Mississippi valley, a most fascinating study.

The Smithsonian, "first in the world, organized a comprehensive system of telegraphic meteorology, and has thus given first to Europe and Asia, and now to the United States, that most beneficent national application of modern science--the storm warnings."

So much of value has been gathered by government surveys and by voluntary contribution that the institution has sent duplicates to various societies of specimens in geology, mineralogy, botany, zooelogy, and archaeology, while it has remaining, "boxed up, varieties of art and nature" more than enough to twice fill the halls and galleries of the building.

The work of Professor Henry grew more and more onerous, but he seemed to leave nothing undone. For many years he served gratuitously as chairman of the Lighthouse Board. When a substitute was needed for sperm oil, after almost numberless experiments, he showed that lard oil is the best illuminant, thereby saving the country over one hundred thousand dollars yearly, since 1865.

During the last twelve years of his life, he devoted much time to our system of coast fog-signals, making "contributions to the science of acoustics, unquestionably the most important of the century."

Observations were made, among other places, at Block Island and Point Judith. The distance between these fog-horns is seventeen miles, and the sound of one can be distinctly heard at the other when the air is quiet and homogeneous; but if the wind blows from one towards the other, the listener at the station from which the wind blows is unable to hear the other horn.

While at work in the Lighthouse Depot, in Staten Island, December, 1877, Henry's right hand became in a paralytic condition. This foretold that the end was near. He died at noon, May 13, 1878, asking, with his latest breath, which way the wind came, as though still thinking how to save human lives in a fog at sea. He was buried May 16, at Rock Creek Cemetery, near Georgetown, D. C. He was ready when death came. Two weeks before, he said to a friend: "I may die at any moment. I would like to live long enough to complete some things I have undertaken, but I am content to go. I have had a happy life, and I hope I have been able to do some good."

Several times during his connection with the Smithsonian Institution he was offered more lucrative positions, but he remained where he believed he could be most useful. He was called to the professorship of chemistry in the Medical Department of the University of Pennsylvania, with double the salary of his secretaryship; but he declined. He was urged also to take the presidency of the college at Princeton. John C. Calhoun desired him to accept a professorship in the University of Virginia, as there were so many difficulties in connection with the secretaryship. Henry declined, saying that "his honor was committed to the institution." Calhoun grasped his hand, exclaiming, "Professor Henry, you are a man after my own heart."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LOUIS AGASSIZ.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He writes to his father, as though half apologizing for the fact that he is writing a book on natural history, at the same time showing the real purpose of his life: "I wish it may be said of Louis Agassiz that he was the first naturalist of his time, a good citizen, and a good son, beloved of those who knew him. I feel within myself the strength of a whole generation to work toward this end, and I will reach it if the means are not wanting."

Thus early in life he had fixed the mark to which he would attain, "the first naturalist of his time." No wonder he succeeded, when he felt within himself "the strength of a whole generation to work toward this end."

In the summer of 1829, when he was twenty-two, the first part of the "Brazilian Fishes" was published, and a copy sent to the fond parents. Good M. Agassiz wrote back: "I have no terms in which to express the pleasure it has given me. In two words, for I have only a moment to myself, I repeat my urgent entreaty that you would hasten your return as much as possible.... The old father, who waits for you with open heart and arms, sends you the most tender greeting." He had been devoting his time to science--just what they feared,--but how proud they were to have him succeed!

Cuvier, the great leader in zooelogy, to whom the book was dedicated, wrote back: "You and M. de Martius have done me honor in placing my name at the head of a work so admirable as the one you have just published. The importance and the rarity of the species therein described, as well as the beauty of the figures, will make the work an important one in ichthyology, and nothing could heighten its value more than the accuracy of your descriptions. It will be of the greatest use to me in my 'History of Fishes.'... I shall do all in my power to accelerate the sale among amateurs, either by showing it to such as meet at my house, or by calling attention to it in scientific journals."

Another project had now taken form in Agassiz's active brain, his great work on "Poissons Fossiles," which a few years later placed him in the front rank of scientific men. He wrote to Auguste: "Having, by permission of the director of the museum, one of the finest collections of fossils in Germany at my disposition, and being also allowed to take the specimens home as I need them, I have undertaken to publish the ichthyological part of the collection. Since it only makes the difference of one or two people more to direct, I have these specimens also drawn at the same time. Nowhere so well as here, where the Academy of Fine Arts brings together so many draughtsmen, could I have the same facility for completing a similar work; and as it is an entirely new branch, in which no one has as yet done anything of importance, I feel sure of success; the more so because Cuvier, who alone could do it (for the single reason that every one else has till now neglected the fishes), is not engaged upon it. Add to this that just now there is a real need of this work for the determination of the different geological formations." And then he urges Auguste to intercede with his uncle at Neuchatel for one hundred louis. "At this very time, when he was keeping two or three artists on his slender means," says his wife, "he made his own breakfast in his room, and dined for a few cents a day at the cheapest eating-houses. But where science was concerned the only economy he recognized, either in youth or old age, was that of an expenditure as bold as it was carefully considered."

He was now at work finishing the "Brazilian Fishes," and carrying forward the "Fresh-Water Fishes" and the "Fossil Fishes." Besides these, he read medical works till midnight, and wrote seventy-four theses on anatomical, pathological, surgical, and obstetrical subjects.

He took his degree of medicine April 3, 1830. He writes to his mother: "The whole ceremony lasted nine days. At the close, while they considered my case, I was sent out of the room. On my return, the dean said to me, 'The faculty have been _very much_' (emphasized) 'pleased with your answers; they congratulate themselves on being able to give the diploma to a young man who has already acquired so honorable a reputation.' ... The rector then added that he should look upon it as the brightest moment of his rectorship when he conferred upon me the title I had so well merited."

And the glad mother writes back: "I cannot thank you enough, my dear Louis, for the happiness you have given me in completing your medical examinations, and thus securing to yourself a career as safe as it is honorable.... You have for my sake gone through a long and arduous task; were it in my power I would gladly reward you, but I cannot even say that I love you the more for it, because that is impossible. My anxious solicitude for your future is a proof of my ardent affection for you; only one thing was wanting to make me the happiest of mothers, and this, my Louis, you have just given me."

Agassiz had taken the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, a year earlier. "The time had come," said he, years afterward, "when even the small allowance I received from borrowed capital must cease. I was now twenty-four years of age. I was Doctor of Philosophy and Medicine, and author of a quarto volume on the fishes of Brazil. I had travelled on foot all over Southern Germany, visited Vienna, and explored extensive tracts of the Alps. I knew every animal, living and fossil, in the museums of Munich, Stuttgart, Tuebingen, Erlangen, Wurzburg, Carlsruhe, and Frankfort; but my prospects were as dark as ever, and I saw no hope of making my way in the world, except by the practical pursuit of my profession as physician."

December 4, 1830, Agassiz said good-by to Munich, and started with Mr. Dinkel, his artist, for Concise, his father having moved there from Orbe. Here he remained a year, arranging, meantime, his own valuable collections in natural history, at the house of his grandfather Mayor, at Cudrefin, on Lake Neuchatel, and practising a little in medicine, in the neighboring villages.

He longed to go to Paris for study, but poverty was his constant companion. Finally, an old friend of his father, a Swiss clergyman, M. Christinot, having come into possession of a small amount of money, urged his young friend to take it. His uncle also contributed a little, and Agassiz and Dinkel left for Paris in September, 1831.

On their arrival they found inexpensive lodgings, and at once began to work in the museums. He writes to his sister Olympe: "M. Cuvier and M. Humboldt especially treat me on all occasions as an equal, and facilitate for me the use of the scientific collections so that I can work here as if I were at home.... In the morning I follow the chemical courses at the Pitie.... At ten o'clock, or perhaps at eleven, I breakfast, and then go to the Museum of Natural History, where I stay till dark. Between five and six I dine, and after that turn to such medical studies as do not require daylight.... On Saturday only, I spend the evening at M. Cuvier's."

He writes later to his brother that there is another excellent reason why he does not spend more evenings in society, because he has "no presentable coat.... You can imagine that, after the fuel bill for the winter is paid, little remains for other expenses out of my two hundred francs a month, five louis of which are always due to my companion. Far from having anything in advance, my month's supply is thus taken up at once." Evidently he had no more money than when he and Auguste copied whole volumes at the Zurich school.

Cuvier was so much drawn to the young naturalist that he gave him and his artist a corner in one of his own laboratories, and, more than this, his drawings of fossil fishes and notes which he had taken in the British Museum and elsewhere. Cuvier said, three months later, with regard to some work, "You are young; you have time enough for it, and I have none to spare."

Agassiz now studied fifteen hours daily, sometimes seventeen. Cuvier commended his devotion, but said one evening as he left him, "Be careful, and remember that _work kills_." The next day he was paralyzed and died soon after, Agassiz never seeing him again.

It became evident that Paris, with her scientific treasures, could not be enjoyed longer. He must go back to Switzerland, and find a place to teach, as his sympathetic mother urged him to do. Just when the sky was darkest, a letter came from Humboldt, enclosing a check for one thousand francs! "Consider it," he said, "an advance which need not be paid for years, and which I will gladly increase when I go away or even earlier. It would pain me deeply should the urgency of my request, made in the closest confidence,--in short, a transaction as between two friends of unequal age,--be disagreeable to you. I should wish to be pleasantly remembered by a young man of your character. Yours, with the most affectionate respect, Alexander Humboldt."

How delicately offered was this charity in the guise of a loan! To give is blessed; to give without wounding the recipient is more blessed still!

The tender heart of Agassiz was deeply moved. He wrote his mother: "Oh! if my mother would forget for one moment that this is the celebrated M. de Humboldt, and find courage to write him only a few lines, how grateful I should be to her. I think it would come better from her than from papa, who would do it more correctly, no doubt, but perhaps not quite as I should like."

She wrote a thankful letter, and the great man replied: "I should scold your son, madame, for having spoken to you of the slight mark of interest I have been able to show him; and yet, how can I complain of a letter so touching, so noble in sentiment, as the one I have just received from your hand? Accept my warmest thanks for it.... One might well despair of the world if a person like your son, with information so substantial and manners so sweet and prepossessing, should fail to make his way."

This money made it possible for Agassiz to work in Paris, until a professorship of Natural History was created for him at Neuchatel, through the influence of Humboldt and others. Humboldt wrote: "Agassiz is distinguished by his talents, by the variety and substantial character of his attainments, and by that which has a special value in these troubled times, his natural sweetness of disposition."

This "sweetness of disposition" was worth more to Agassiz, all through life, than a fortune. It drew everybody to him. It opened the pockets of the wealthy to carry forward his great projects. It won the hearts of his pupils on two hemispheres. It made his home a delight, and his presence a constant blessing.

He assumed the duties of his professorship at Neuchatel in the autumn of 1832, giving his first lecture, "Upon the Relations between the different branches of Natural History and the then prevailing tendencies of all the Sciences," November 12, at the Hotel de Ville. A society for the study of the natural sciences was soon formed, and Agassiz became its secretary. So natural, so enthusiastic, so full of his subject, was he, that everybody became interested. To little companies of his friends and neighbors he lectured on botany, on zooelogy, and the philosophy of nature. Even the children were delighted to gather and be told how lakes, springs, rivers, and valleys are formed.

"When it was impossible to give the lessons out-of-doors, the children were gathered around a large table, where each one had before him or her the specimens of the day, sometimes stones and fossils, sometimes flowers, fruits, or dried plants.... When the talk was of tropical or distant countries, pains were taken to procure characteristic specimens, and the children were introduced to dates, bananas, cocoa-nuts, and other fruits, not to be easily obtained in those days in a small inland town. They, of course, concluded the lesson by eating the specimen, a practical illustration which they greatly enjoyed."

Three months after his settlement at Neuchatel, where eighty louis had been guaranteed to him for three years, he was invited to Heidelberg, to succeed his former professor, Leuckart, in zooelogy. He would receive a salary of five hundred florins, besides about fifteen hundred gulden for lectures and literary work. He declined the honor, because he wished more time to devote to his writing. The following year Neuchatel purchased his collections in natural history, thus affording him some pecuniary aid in his work.

A serious misfortune now threatened him in the loss of sight. Having injured his eyes by microscopic work, for several months he was shut up in a dark room, practising the study of his fossils by touch alone; by the tongue when the fingers were not sufficiently sensitive to feel out the impression. With great care his eyes improved, so that he was able to use them through life more constantly than most persons.

In October, 1833, when he was twenty-six, Agassiz married Cecile Braun of Carlsruhe, the sister of his life-long friend Alexander. They began housekeeping in a small apartment at Neuchatel, both practising the closest economy that the books might be carried on; the "Fresh-Water Fishes," and the "Fossil Fishes." She was a skilful artist, had done much work for her brother in botany, and now helped her young husband in drawing and coloring his fishes.

The first number of the "Fossil Fishes" had already appeared, with the following title, which shows the plan of the great work, to which he devoted ten years, from 1833 to 1843:--

"Researches on the Fossil Fishes: comprising an Introduction to the Study of these Animals; the Comparative Anatomy of Organic Systems which may contribute to facilitate the Determination of Fossil Species; a New Classification of Fishes, expressing their relations to the Series of Formations; the Explanation of the Laws of their Succession and Development during all the Changes of the Terrestrial Globe, accompanied by General Geological Considerations; finally, the Description of about a thousand Species which no longer exist, and whose Characters have been restored from Remains contained in the Strata of the Earth."

The work was inscribed to Humboldt. "These pages owe to you their existence; accept their dedication." It met everywhere the most favorable reception. Elie de Beaumont wrote to Agassiz: "It promises a work as important for science as it is remarkable in execution. Do not let yourself be discouraged by obstacles of any kind; they will give way before the concert of approbation which so excellent a work will awaken."

Agassiz had become known to scholars throughout Europe, as an indefatigable worker, but he was still poor. Now and then there came a gleam of sunshine into the straitened life. In 1834, he was greatly surprised to receive from the London Geological Society, through Sir Charles Lyell, the Wollaston prize, of about one hundred and fifty dollars, conferred upon him for his work on fishes.

He writes back to Lyell: "You cannot imagine the joy your letter has given me. The prize awarded me is at once so unexpected an honor and so welcome an aid that I could hardly believe my eyes when, with tears of relief and gratitude, I read your letter. In the presence of a savant, I need not be ashamed of my penury, since I have spent the little I had wholly in scientific researches. I do not, therefore, hesitate to confess to you that at no time could your gift have given me greater pleasure. Generous friends have helped me to bring out the first number of my 'Fossil Fishes;' the plates of the second are finished, but I was greatly embarrassed to know how to print a sufficient number of copies before the returns from the first should be paid in. The text is ready also, so that now, in a fortnight, I can begin the distribution, and, the rotation once established, I hope that preceding numbers will always enable me to publish the next in succession without interruption. I even count upon this resource as affording me the means of making a journey to England before long."

In August, 1834, Agassiz went to England, and there formed delightful friendships with such men as Lyell, Murchison, Buckland, and others. He was allowed to cull, from sixty or more collections, some two thousand fossil fishes, and deposit them in the Somerset House in London, where Mr. Dinkel, the artist, remained for several years at work, copying.

In the summer of 1836, he began his remarkable study of the glaciers. He was so cramped for means to carry forward his "Fossil Fishes," that it seemed probable that he must discontinue it, when opportunely his original drawings were purchased by Lord Francis Egerton and given to the British Museum. The financial condition was thus bettered for a time.

His investigation of the slopes of the Jura led to an address before the Helvetic Association assembled at Neuchatel in 1837, in which he said: "Siberian winter established itself for a time over a world previously covered with a rich vegetation and peopled with large mammalia, similar to those now inhabiting the warm regions of India and Africa. Death enveloped all nature in a shroud, and the cold, having reached its highest degree, gave to this mass of ice, at the maximum of tension, the greatest possible hardness." He showed how huge boulders had been distributed over the continent.

His views excited much opposition, from most of the older geologists. Even Humboldt said, "Your ice frightens me." But the discussion convinced the scientific world that Agassiz was both original and brilliant. He was soon called to a professorship of geology and mineralogy at Geneva, with a salary of three thousand francs, and also to Lausanne; but he refused both offers. So pleased were the people of Neuchatel that they made him accept a present of six thousand francs, payable during three years.

In 1838, Agassiz founded a lithographic printing establishment in Neuchatel, where his work could be done under his own direction instead of in Munich. He was now, besides his duties as professor, at work on "Living and Fossil Echinoderms and Mollusks," as well as "Fresh-Water and Fossil Fishes," and soon after upon the "Etudes sur les Glaciers," with an atlas of thirty-two plates. The book gave an account of all previous glacial study, and the observations of himself and companions.