SIR CHARLES LYELL.SIR CHARLES LYELL.
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 onlyonehad 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, withbolsters. 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 herbolsterswear out most rapidly."
Charles grew ill at Salisbury, and was taken home for three months. "I began," he says, "to get annoyed withennui, 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 thisdepartmentof 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 Linnæan 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 levée at Alexander Brongniart's, "who among the English geologists has the highest reputation both for knowledge and agreeable manners of all the Frenchsavans," 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 hissoiréesnext 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 cryptogamiæ....' 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 zoölogy, 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 werewilling 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.
The next year, 1824, Lyell made a geological tour with M. Constant Prévost, a noted French geologist, from London to Bristol and Land's End, and with Dr. Buckland, in Scotland, where they dined with the far-famed Francis Jeffrey, editor of the "Edinburgh Review." Lyell's eyes still troubled him so that he could scarcely write letters home; but he was laying up a store of knowledge from which the world was to profit in a few years.
In 1825, his eyes having improved, he resumed his law study, and was admitted to the bar. But he could not give up geological work, and published several papers,—one on a dike of serpentine, another on shell marl and fossil fruit, and others on plastic clay in Hampshire and the fresh-water strata of Hants. He had been made a Fellow of the Royal Society at twenty-nine, and was one of the writers in the "Quarterly Review."
The law work went on, but it was easy to see where his heart was. He wrote a friend that he had been "devouring" Lamarck: "That the earth is quite as old as he supposes has long been my creed, and I will try before six months are over to convert the readers of the 'Quarterly' to that heterodox opinion.... Buckland has got a letter from India about modern hyænas, whose manners, habitations, diet, etc., are everything he could wish, and as much as could be expected had they attended regularly three courses of his lectures."
At thirty-one Lyell had made up his mind "that there is most real independence in that class of society who, possessing moderate means, are engaged in literary and scientific hobbies;" he had given up the law, and planned the book that was to make him famous—"Principles of Geology." He travelled now extensively in Italy and France, studying volcanoes, glaciers, and fossils. At Auvergne, he began work with his dear friend Murchison at six o'clock in the morning, "and neither heat nor fatigue has stopped us an hour," he writes to his parents. "I have really gained strength so much, that I believe that I and my eyes were never in such a condition before; and I am sure that six hours in bed, which is all we allow, and exercise all day long for the body, and geology for the mind, ... is the best thing that can be invented in this world for my health and happiness."
Eighteen hours of labor daily, and yet he was happy! He had found his life-work now. To a sister he writes about the beetles at Aix. He cannot be laughed out of this study as when a boy. He has been to Parma, to see Professor Guidotti's "finest collection of fossil-shells in Italy, ... spending three days, from six o'clock in the morning till night, exchanging our respective commodities."
To his sisters he writes all his discoveries in rocks and fossils, with the enthusiasm of a boy. "I rode to the upper Val d'Arno,—a famous day for me,—an old lacustrine deposit, corresponding delightfully with our Angus lakes in all but age andspeciesof animals; same genera of shells. They have just extracted the fortieth skeleton of hippopotamus; have got about twenty elephants, one or two mastodons, a rhinoceros and stags, and oxen out of number.... At Rome I found the geology of the city itself exceedingly interesting. The celebrated seven hills, of which you have read, and which in fact are nine, are caused by the Tiber and some tributaries, which have cut open valleys almost entirely through volcanic ejected matter, covered by travertine containing lacustrine shells."
He made the ascent of Etna, and sketched the crater. "Inside the crater, near the lip, were huge masses of ice, between which and the scoriæ and lava of the crater issued hot sulphurous vapors, which I breathed in copiously; and for six hours after I could not, even after eating and drinking, get the horrid taste out of my mouth, for my lungs had got full of it. The wind was so high, that the guide held my hat while I drew; but though the head was cold, my feet got so hot in the cinders, that I was often alarmed that my boots would be burnt."
In 1830, the first volume of "Principles of Geology, being an Attempt to Explain the Former Changes of the Earth's Surface by Reference to Causes now in Operation," was published. "It will not pretend," he wrote to Murchison, "to give even an abstract of all that is known in geology, but it will endeavor to establish theprinciplesofreasoningin the science; and all my geology will come in as illustration of my views of those principles, and as evidence strengthening the system necessarily arising out of the admission of such principles, which, as you know, are neither more nor less than thatno causes whateverhave from the earliest time to which we can look back, to the present, ever acted, but thosenow acting.... I must go to Germany.... Their language must be learnt; the places to which their memoirs relate, visited; and then you may see, as I may, to what extent we may indulge dreams of eminence, at least as original observers." He, too, like all the other great ones, indulged in "dreams of eminence." Did ever man or woman achieve anything worthy without these dreams?
He had worked earnestly upon the "Principles," which showed wonderful research, study, and thought. He said, "The facts which are given in a few sentences require weeks of reading to obtain.... By the aid of a good amanuensis, my eyes hold out well."
The sale of the book was large and satisfactory. It was, of course, opposed, from its advanced views as to the age of the world, but Lyell wisely made no reply. He said, "I have sworn to myself that I will not go to the expense of giving time to combat in controversy. It is an interminable work." A great lesson, learned early.
In 1831 he visited Germany. Now he wrote home not only to his family, but to another, who was hereafter to brighten and beautify his life—Mary Horner, the daughter of a prominent scientist. To great personal beauty she added unusual mental ability. Wise man indeed was Charles Lyell to have known, what some fail to know beforehand, that intellect demands intellect for the best companionship.
He wrote to her: "I am sure you will work at it" (the German language) "with more zeal if you believe you can help me by it, as I labor with greater spirit, now that I regard myself as employed for you as well as for myself. Not that I am at all sanguine about the pecuniary profits that I shall ever reap, but I feel that if I could have fair play for the next ten years, I could gain a reputation that would make a moderate income for the latter part of my life, yield me a command of society, and a respect that would entitle me to rest a little on my oars, and enable me to help somewhat those I love.... As to geology havinghalfof my heart, I hope I shall be able to give mywholesoul to it, with that enthusiasm by which alone any advance can be made in any science, or, indeed, in any profession."
In 1832 Lyell was made professor of geology in King's College, London, which position he resigned later, because he wished "the power of commandingtimeto increase his knowledge and fame." This year also, July 12, when he was thirty-five, he was married to Mary Horner, and made a tour up the valley of the Rhine.
The earnest life was now more earnest and busy than ever. He said, "I am never so happy as when, at the end of a week, I feel I have employed every day in a manner that will tell to the rest of my life." Would that all of us could live after so noble a plan!
"Unless I can feel that I am working to some decided end, such as that of fame, money, or partly both, I cannot be quite happy, or cannot feel a stimulus to that strenuous application without which I should not remain content." He had learned what "strenuous application" means, and knew that there is no success without it. When congratulated by his friends "in not looking older for his hard work," he said, "The way to do much and not grow old is, to be moderate in not going out, to work a few hours, or half-hours, at a time, ... and to go to bed at eleven o'clock." He would not accept many invitations socially. "A man should have some severity of character, and be able to refuse invitations, etc.," he said. "The fact is, that to become great in science, a man must be nearly as devoted as a lawyer, and must have more than mere talent.... I think I never do so much as when I have fought a battle not to go out." Those who have written books will appreciate this statement, and recall the many days when they have closed the shutters and worked, though they longed to be out-of-doors in the sunlight.
In 1833, the year after his marriage, he gave by invitation a course of seven lectures before the Royal Institution, a high honor. In 1834, he passed several months in Sweden, and wrote back to his "dearest Mary,"—"I have been ten hours without a word with my love, but thinking of her more than half the time, and comforting myself that she is less alone than I am." ... He kept a journal for her of his daily work.
"It is now twenty-five days that we have been separated, and I have often thought of what you said, that the active occupation in which I should constantly be engaged would give me a great advantage over you. I trust, however, that you also have been actively employed. At leisure moments I have done some things towards planning my next volume. It will be necessary for us to have a work together at fossils at Kinnordy, first, and then in town, and then in Paris." Thus fully had the young wife entered into his studies.
In 1835, having received the gold medal of the Royal Society, for his "Principles of Geology,"—now in its fourth edition, which Sir John Herschel said he had read three times,—he was elected president of the Geological Society of London, and made extensive researches in Switzerland, Germany, and Scotland.
In 1841, already famous as well as beloved, Lyell was invited to give twelve lectures before the Lowell Institute, in Boston. He and his wife spent thirteen months in the United States, studying the country geologically; its social life, its politics, and our benevolent and educational institutions. Between two and three thousand persons came, both morning and evening, to listen to the distinguished scholar, who had travelled almost the world over to study his beloved science.
Close friendships were formed with some of our most prominent men, like Prescott and Ticknor. Lyell visited the great lakes, and compared the supposed ancient boundaries of Lake Ontario, when it was one hundred and fifty feet higher, with its present shore. He made a careful study of Niagara Falls, which cuts its deep gorge toward Lake Ontario, for seven miles, and estimated that it wore away a foot a year. If so, he argued that at least thirty-five thousand years have passed since the river began to cut its passage between the high rocky walls. "What would I give," said Lyell, "for a daguerrotype of the scene as it was four thousand, and again forty thousand years ago! Even four centuries would have been very important." Authorities differ as to the rate of the recession of the falls. Some estimate an inch instead of a foot yearly, requiring a period of more than four hundred thousand years.
In 1845, Lyell published his "Travels in North America, with Geological Observations," and in September of the same year, returned again to our country, spending nine months in travel and study, and bringing out later, in 1849, his "Second Visit to the United States of North America."
Already his "Elements of Geology" had appeared, which went through several editions. A seventh edition of the "Principles" had been published. He had also been knighted by the Queen, for his rare scholarship. Honored at home and abroad, working ardently and earnestly, often with failing sight, he had already won for himself the eminence of which he had dared to dream years before.
Of course he was welcomed at all great gatherings. Macaulay and Hallam, Milmore and Mrs. Somerville, Rogers, and scores of others were often at his home.
In 1851, he was appointed one of the Royal Commissioners for the first Great Exhibition held in Hyde Park, London, and a year later gave a second course of lectures at the Lowell Institute, Boston. So kindly and cordially had he written concerning us and our country, that he received the heartiest welcome. He had carried out in his life what he wrote to beautiful Mary Horner, twenty years before: "I hope we shall both of us contrive to cultivate a disposition—which David Hume said was better than a fortune of one thousand pounds a year—to look on the bright side of things. I think I shall, and I believe you will." The sweet-natured and great-minded man had looked on the bright side of America, and seen the good rather than the evil. He believed in our future. When Prescott died, to whom he was devotedly attached, he said: "From such a soil and in such an atmosphere, great literary men must continue to spring up."
All through our Civil War, he had known and loved us so well, that he was, like John Bright, our constant advocate. He deprecated the course of some of the English newspapers. "The integrity of the empire," he said, "and the non-extension and for the last two years the extinction of slavery constitute to my mind better grounds for a protracted struggle than those for which any war in our time, perhaps in all history, has been waged.... I am in hopes that the struggle in America will rid the country in the course of twenty years of that great curse to the whites, slave labor, and, if so, it may be worth all it will cost in blood and treasure...."
"Had the States been dismembered, there would have been endless wars, more activity than ever in breeding slaves in America, and a renewal of the African slave-trade, and the future course of civilization retarded in that continent in a degree which would not, in my judgment, be counterbalanced by any adequate advantage which Europe would gain by the United States becoming relatively less strong.... I believe that if a small number of our statesmen had seen what I had seen of America, they would not have allowed their wishes for dismemberment to have biassed their judgment of the issue so much."
In 1853, at the request of his government, he came to New York, as one of the commissioners to the International Exhibition. Of course, now, wherever he travelled, either in Europe or America, he met the distinguished, and was honored by them. He was the friend of Berzelius, the noted chemist of Sweden, and of the great Liebig of Germany. Professor Bunsen of Heidelberg said, that all his taste for geology had been derived from Lyell's books.
During the next few years, he was much in Holland, France, and Germany, preparing for the publication of another great work in 1863, the "Antiquity of Man." He had made a careful study of the ancient Swiss Lake-dwellings, erected on piles in the midst of the water, connected with the land by bridges. On Lake Neuchâtel it is estimated that there were more than forty such circular houses. At Wangen, near Stein, on Lake Constance, it is believed forty thousand piles were used. Some five thousand objects have been found, comprising flax, not woven, but plaited; carbonized wheat, and the bones of the dog, ox, sheep, and goat. The arrow-heads, hatchets, and the like, belong to the stone age, which geologists place, at the least, seven thousand years ago. At Zurich one human skull was found belonging to this early stone age. No traveller should pass through Zurich without seeing these memorials of a people who lived in the dawn of civilization, when the world was being made ready for the more perfect man.
Lyell had studied also the Danish "kitchen-middens," familiar to those who have been carefully over the museums at Copenhagen. These shell-mounds, the refuse heaps of this ancient race, are sometimes one thousand feet long and two hundred wide. As far back as the time of the Romans the Danish isles were covered with magnificent beech forests. In the bronze age there were no beech trees, but oaks. In the stone age the Scotch fir prevailed, and thousands of years must have elapsed while these giant forests succeeded each other.
The delta and alluvial plain of the Mississippi Lyell found to consist of sediment covering an area of thirty thousand square miles, several hundred feet deep. Taking the amount deposited annually, it would require from fifty to one hundred thousand years to produce the present deposits.
The coral reefs of Florida, built up at the rate of one foot in a century, each reef adding ten miles to the coast, have required, according to Agassiz, at least one hundred and thirty-five thousand years for building. Human remains in a bluff on the shores of Lake Monroe, in Florida, he shows to be at least ten thousand years old.
Under the streets of Glasgow, Scotland, seventeen canoes have been dug up, one in a vertical position, as if it had sunk in a storm, with the prow uppermost. Twelve canoes one hundred yards back from the river were found nineteen feet beneath the surface. Almost all were single oak trees, hollowed out by blunt tools, probably stone axes, aided by fire, relics of the stone age.
In caverns near Liège, France, human bones have been found, with the cave-bear, elephant, rhinoceros, and other species now extinct. Skulls found in these primeval caves, especially one near Düsseldorf, called the "Neanderthal," "is the most brutal of all known human skulls, resembling those of the apes." These rude men probably were living at the same time, or even later, than the makers of the "refuse heaps" of Denmark.
Wales has been under the sea to the depth of fourteen hundred feet, as proved by glacial shells; its submergence and reëlevation would require, by careful computation, about two hundred and twenty-four thousand years.
Lyell showed that the Alps, Andes, and Himalaya Mountains were all elaborated under water. "The Alps have acquired four thousand, and even, in some places, more than ten thousand feet of their present altitude since the commencement of the Eocene (dawn of recent) period.... It is not too much to say that every spot which is now dry land has been sea at some former period, and every part of the space now covered by the deepest ocean has been land. The present distribution of land and water encourages us to believe that almost every conceivable transformation in the external form of the earth's crust may have been gone through. In one epoch the land may have been chiefly equatorial; in another, for the most part polar and circumpolar."
Lyell showed also the great age of the world by the changes which have taken place in climate. In Greenland are a multitude of fossil plants, which show that it formerly enjoyed a mild and genial climate. Fossil tulip and walnut trees have been found within the Arctic circle.
"On the North American continent, between the Arctic circle and the forty-second parallel of latitude," said Lyell, "we meet with signs of ice-action on a scale as grand, if not grander than in Europe." The drift covered from the Atlantic border of New England and Labrador westward to Dakota and Lake Winnipeg, and farther north, across the continent. Some stones in this bed of ice were thirty feet square, weighing over four million pounds. Some boulders from the Alps, weighing three thousand tons each, are now found on the Juras. "It must, I think," said Lyell, "be conceded that the period required for the coming-on of the greatest cold, and for its duration when most intense, and the oscillations to which it was subject, as well as the retreat of the glaciers and the 'great thaw,' or disappearance of snow, from many mountain-chains where the snow was once perpetual, required not tens, but hundreds, of thousands of years."
In Arctic Siberia herds of elephants must have roamed, as their bodies, covered with hair and flesh, have been dug up in recent years. Great Britain and Europe have been much warmer than now. Our own immense coal fields show a former tropical climate, with their great tree-ferns and tree-rushes, while the remains of reindeers have been found in Connecticut.
No wonder Lyell became fascinated with the history of the changes of this planet, and the life of man before historic times. A great book seemed open to him, and he studied it by night and by day: the Archæan Time—no life; Paleozoic Time, including the Silurian Age, with its shells and trilobites; the Devonian, with its fishes; Carboniferous, with its coal plants; Mesozoic Time, including the Reptilian Age with its reptiles; Cenozoic Time, including the Mammalian or Tertiary, with its mammals, and Quaternary, or age of man. Paleozoic means "ancient life;" Mesozoic, "middle life;" Cenozoic, "recent life."
Lyell divided the Tertiary strata into three groups: Eocene, recent dawn; Miocene, less recent; Pliocene, more recent. In the Eocene Age Great Britain was sub-tropical, and, in North America, Vermont was like North Carolina in temperature. Then came the Glacial Period, with ice probably five thousand feet thick over New England. Then the Champlain Period, with its floods, continents depressed, and climate warm, followed in Europe by a second Glacial Period.
The "Antiquity of Man" had an extensive sale. Honors were now showered upon Sir Charles Lyell. He was offered the Presidency of the Royal Society, and a seat in Parliament for the University of London, but declined both. Oxford University had already conferred upon him the degree of D. C. L., and the Institute of France had made him corresponding member. By request of the queen, he visited her at Osborne, she having made him a baronet. Emperor William conferred upon him the Order of Merit, given also to Humboldt, and the London Royal Society, its highest honor, the Copley gold medal.
In the spring of 1873, his "dearest Mary" died, leaving him heart-broken. She was mourned in America as well as Europe. The "Boston Advertiser" said, "Strength and sweetness were hers, both in no common measure.... She became to her husband not merely the truest of friends, and the most affectionate and sympathizing of companions, but a very efficient helper. She was frank, generous, and true; her moral instincts were high and pure; she was faithful and firm in friendship.... This woman so widely informed, so true, so strong, so brave, seemed all compact of softness, sweetness, and gentleness; a very flower that had done no more than drink the sunshine and the dew. In her smile, her greeting, the tones of her voice, there was a charm which cannot be described, but which all who knew her have felt and will recall.... During the war there was not a woman or a man in England that stood by the Union and the government more ardently and fearlessly than she." Lady Lyell was an efficient linguist, and a woman of unusual mental power. The success of her husband was in part the result of her lovely character. Had she sought society while he needed quiet for his work, had she been fond of dress when their income was limited and necessarily used in his extensive travels, his life might have been a failure. They had what Tolstoï well calls "the friendship of the soul; identity of sentiment and similarity of ideal." Too often in this world persons marry "opposites," and walk, alas! in opposite directions all their lives.
Lyell now worked on, for he said he must carry out what he had planned withher. In 1872 the eleventh edition of the "Principles" appeared. Lyell, though formerly an opponent, had become convinced of the truth of evolution, advocated by his devoted friend Darwin, and was proud of our own distinguished botanist Asa Gray, whose articles, he said, "were the ablest, and, on the whole, grappling with the subject, both as a naturalist and metaphysician, better than any one else on either side of the Atlantic."
Lyell believed ever in "an infinite and eternal Being." He said, "In whatever direction we pursue our researches, whether in time or space, we discover everywhere the clear proofs of a Creative intelligence, and of his foresight, wisdom, and power."
He used to quote Professor Agassiz, who said, "Whenever a new and startling fact is brought to light in science, people first say, 'It is not true,' then that 'it is contrary to religion,' and lastly that 'everybody knew it before.'"
For the last ten years of his life, unable to use his eyes to any great extent, Lyell had the assistance, as secretary, of the able author of the "Fairy Land of Science," Miss Arabella Buckley, now Mrs. Fisher. And yet he accomplished more than most people with the best of eyes.
Two years after his wife's death, while at work on the twelfth edition of the "Principles," the end came, February 22, 1875. He was buried in Westminster Abbey, beside his friend Sir John Herschel,—the Duke of Argyll, Professor Huxley, and other noted men acting as pall-bearers. Said the Dean of Westminster, in the funeral sermon preached in the Abbey, "He followed truth with a zeal as sanctified as ever fired the soul of a missionary, and with a humility as child-like as ever subdued the mind of a simple scholar.... From early youth to extreme old age, it was to him a solemn religious duty to be incessantly learning, constantly growing, fearlessly correcting his own mistakes, always ready to receive and reproduce from others that which he had not in himself. Science and religion for him not only were not divorced, but were one and indivisible." Truly said Tyndall, Huxley, and others, "For the last twenty-five years he has been the most prominent geologist in the world; equally eminent for the extent of his labors and the breadth of his philosophical views."
To the last Sir Charles Lyell kept his affectionate, tender heart, with gentle and kindly manners. He was fair to his opponents, and appreciative of all talent. He took time to help others. He urged the name of Agassiz as the lecturer before the Lowell Institute, Boston, and we all know the grand results of his coming. Those who have no time to help others usually fail of help when their own time of need comes. Lyell was singularly free from vanity, egotism, or jealousy. He loved nature devotedly, the grandeur of the sea especially impressing him; he never tired of wandering alone beside it. He had great steadiness of purpose, and calm judgment. His perseverance was untiring; his power of work remarkable; his sympathy boundless. He was never narrow or opinionated. He died as he had lived; honored the world over for his amazing knowledge, and loved for his unselfish, earnest, and beautiful character.
On Thursday evening, January 16, 1879, a large company gathered in the hall of the House of Representatives at Washington. They came to honor the memory of one of our greatest in science, since Franklin,—Joseph Henry, the Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution. Addresses were made by the Hon. Hannibal Hamlin, Professor Asa Gray, a most distinguished scientist, the Hon. James A. Garfield, General W. T. Sherman, the Hon. S. S. Cox, and others.
Not alone at the Capitol were memorial services held for Professor Henry. Before the United States National Academy of Sciences, before the American Association for the Advancement of Science, before the Philosophical Society of Washington,—of all these he had been president,—before the College of New Jersey at Princeton, where he was Professor of Natural Philosophy for fourteen years, before the Albany Institute, of which he was one of the original members, and before various other societies in which he had been a leading spirit, heartfelt testimony was given to America's loss in the death of a great scholar and a good man.
JOSEPH HENRY.JOSEPH HENRY.
Joseph Henry was born in Albany, N. Y., December 17, 1797, or 1799, probably the latter date, this uncertainty arising from the illegibility of the faded records in the old family Bible. His grandparents came from Scotland, landing in this country June 16, 1775, the day before the battle of Bunker Hill. The father, William Henry, of whom little is known, died when his first son, Joseph, was nine years old. The boy had gone two years previously to live with his maternal grandmother at Galway, in the county of Saratoga, N. Y.
Joseph's mother is remembered as a lady of great refinement, delicate in form and feature, and very beautiful in her youth. She was deeply devotional, and probably to this fact is partially due Professor Henry's earnest religious character through life.
At the district school of Galway, under Israel Phelps, Joseph exhibited no special aptitude for books, though he showed an inquisitive mind. At the age of ten, he was placed in a store kept by a Mr. Broderick, who was very kind to him, allowing him to attend school in the afternoons.
His fondness for reading developed from a singular circumstance. Having lost a pet rabbit, which had run into an opening in the foundation wall of the village meeting-house, he crept through the hole on his hands and knees, to find the runaway. Discovering a light through a crevice, boy-like, he decided to investigate his surroundings. He soon reached the vestibule of the building, and found there a book-case containing the village library. The first book which attracted his attention was Brooke's "Fool of Quality," a work of fiction. He began to read, and soon forgot about his rabbit.
From this time he made frequent visits to the library, by the underground passage, reading all the novels he could find. In the evening, to the lads who gathered about the stove in the village store, he rehearsed the wonderful things he had read. He was a handsome, slender lad, of delicate complexion, vivacious manners, and a great favorite. Mr. Broderick, the proprietor, enjoyed the stories, and finally obtained proper access to the library for his young clerk.
When about thirteen or fourteen, Joseph was apprenticed to Mr. John F. Doty of Albany, a watch-maker and silversmith. He found very little pleasure in the trade, and was probably glad when, after two years, the apprenticeship came to an end, through Mr. Doty leaving the business.
Of course he was out of work. He was very fond of the theatre, and, having been behind the scenes, had learned how stage effects are produced. He now joined a private theatrical company, called "The Rostrum," and was soon made president of the society. He dramatized a story, and wrote a comedy, both of which were acted. He seemed destined to become an actor, probably not with the approval of his Scotch Presbyterian mother.
Lives are sometimes changed by seemingly trivial events, yet nothing is trivial that influences a human being. Garfield said, "To every man of great original power there comes, in early youth, a moment of sudden discovery—of self-recognition—when his own nature is revealed to himself, when he catches for the first time a strain of that immortal song to which his own spirit answers, and which becomes thenceforth and forever the inspiration of his life.
"'Like noble music unto noble words.'"
"'Like noble music unto noble words.'"
That "moment of sudden discovery" came to Henry at sixteen. A slight accident had confined him to his mother's house for a few days. A young Scotch gentleman, Robert Boyle, who was boarding with her, had left upon the table of his chamber an unostentatious book, "Lectures on Experimental Philosophy, Astronomy, and Chemistry: by G. Gregory, D.D., Vicar of Westham."
The book begins by asking several questions: "You throw a stone, or shoot an arrow into the air; why does it not go forward in the line or direction that you give it? Why does it stop at a certain distance, and then return to you?... On the contrary, why does flame or smoke always mount upward, though no force is used to send them in that direction? And why should not the flame of a candle drop toward the floor when you reverse it, or hold it downward, instead of turning up and ascending into the air?... Again, you look into a clear well of water, and see your own face and figure, as if painted there. Why is this? You are told that it is done by reflection of light. But what is reflection of light?"
Henry took up this book and began to read. Soon it seemed more interesting than Brooke's "Fool of Quality" and all the romances. At the very next meeting of the theatrical society, he resigned the presidency, telling his companions that he should devote his life to solid studies.
Robert Boyle, seeing that the youth was interested in the book, gave it to him. It was ever after preserved in Professor Henry's library, with these words written on the fly-leaf: "This book, although by no means a profound work, has, under Providence, exerted a remarkable influence upon my life. It accidentally fell into my hands when I was about sixteen years old, and was the first work I ever read with attention. It opened to me a new world of thought and enjoyment; invested things before almost unnoticed with the highest interest; fixed my mind on the study of nature, and caused me to resolve, at the time of reading it, that I would immediately commence to devote my life to the acquisition of knowledge."
This resolution was at once put in practice, by attending a night-school, where he soon learned all that the master could teach. His next attempt at education was to learn grammar of a travelling teacher, and so skilled did he become that he made a grammatical tour of the country districts, in imitation of his instructor, earning enough money to enter the Albany Academy. When more money was needed, the enterprising youth found a situation as head of a district school, at eight dollars a month! He pleased his patrons so well that he received fifteen dollars for the second month. Later, he became an assistant in the academy, while still a pupil.
Says Orlando Meads, LL.D.: "When a boy in the Albany Academy in 1823 and 1824, it was my pleasure and privilege, when released from recitations, to resort to the chemical laboratory and lecture room. There might be found from day to day through the winter, earnestly engaged in experiments upon steam and upon a small steam-engine, and in chemical and other scientific investigations, two young men—both active members of the 'Lyceum,' then very different in their external circumstances and prospects in life, but of kindred tastes and sympathies; the one was Richard Varick De Witt, the other was Joseph Henry, as yet unknown to fame, but already giving promise of those rare qualities of mind and character which have since raised him to the very first rank among the experimental philosophers of his time.
"Chemistry at that time was exciting great interest, and Dr. Beck's courses of chemical lectures, conducted every winter in the lecture room of the academy, were attended not only by the students, but by all that was most intelligent and fashionable in the city. Henry ... was then Dr. Beck's chemical assistant, and already an admirable experimentalist, and he availed himself to the utmost of the advantages thus afforded of prosecuting his investigations in chemistry, electricity, and galvanism." Dr. T. Romeyn Beck, the principal, had become interested in the studious young man, and, when he left the academy, recommended him to one of the trustees, General Stephen Van Rensselaer, as a private tutor to his sons. Young Henry's services were engaged, and, as his teaching required but about three hours each day, he devoted his leisure to higher mathematics, in conjunction with chemistry, physiology, and anatomy, as he had decided to become a physician. In his mathematical studies he went so far as to read theMécanique Analytiqueof La Grange.
His delicate constitution seemed unable to bear the continued strain of study and teaching, and at twenty-six, through the friendship of an influential judge, Henry received the appointment of engineer in the survey of a road between the Hudson River and Lake Erie, a distance of about three hundred miles. This gave him out-of-door life, which he needed, and, though much of his work was done in winter, in deep snow, making his way through dense forests, he entirely regained his health, and gave such excellent satisfaction that he was asked to construct a canal in Ohio, and assist in a mining enterprise in Mexico. Both of these he refused, accepting the chair of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy in the Albany Academy, at the urgent solicitation of his friend, Dr. Beck.
Elected in the spring, and not entering upon his work till autumn, he spent the intervening months in geological exploration in New York State. Every hour was occupied. He had commenced solid study in earnest, as he had told the members of the "Rostrum" he should do.
Having entered upon his profession, he taught mathematics seven hours daily. But he found time to make experiments in natural philosophy. The first paper which he brought before the Albany Institute was, "On the Chemical and Mechanical Effects of Steam: with Experiments designed to illustrate the Great Reduction of Temperature in Steam of High Elasticity when suddenly expanded."
His next published scientific paper was, "On the Production of Cold by the Rarefaction of Air: accompanied by Experiments." "One of these experiments most strikingly illustrated the great reduction of temperature which takes place on the sudden rarefaction of condensed air. Half a pint of water was poured into a strong copper vessel of a globular form, and having a capacity of five gallons; a tube of one-fourth of an inch caliber, with a number of holes near the lower end, and a stop-cock attached to the other extremity, was firmly screwed into the neck of the vessel; the lower end of the tube dipped into the water, but a number of holes were above the surface of the liquid, so that a jet of air mingled with water might be thrown from the fountain.
"The apparatus was then charged with condensed air, by means of a powerful condensing pump, until the pressure was estimated at nine atmospheres. During the condensation, the vessel became sensibly warm. After suffering the apparatus to cool down to the temperature of the room, the stop-cock was opened: the air rushed out with great violence, carrying with it a quantity of water, which was instantly converted into snow. After a few seconds, the tube became filled with ice, which almost entirely stopped the current of air. The neck of the vessel was then partially unscrewed, so as to allow the condensed air to rush out around the sides of the screw; in this state the temperature of the whole interior atmosphere was so much reduced as to freeze the remaining water in the vessel."
Other pamphlets followed this publication, but in 1831 a notable paper in the "American Journal of Science and the Arts" brought Henry's name to the front line of discoverers in electro-magnetism. Sturgeon made the first electro-magnet; Henry made the electro-magnet what it is.
Says W. B. Taylor, in an address before the "Philosophical Society of Washington:" "The electro-magnet figured and described by Sturgeon consisted of a small bar or stout iron wire bent into aHorse-shoeor horse-shoe form, having a copper wire wound loosely around it in eighteen turns, with the ends of the wire dipping into mercury-cups connected with the respective poles of a battery having one hundred and thirty square inches of active surface."
Henry improved upon this in 1828, but in March of 1829 he exhibited before the Institute a somewhat larger magnet. "A round piece of iron about one-quarter of an inch in diameter was bent into the usual form of a horse-shoe, and, instead of loosely coiling around it a few feet of wire as is usually described, it was tightly wound with thirty-five feet of wire covered with silk, so as to form about four hundred turns; a pair of small galvanic plates, which could be dipped into a tumbler of diluted acid, was soldered to the ends of the wire, and the whole mounted on a stand. With these small plates, the horse-shoe became much more powerfully magnetic than another of the same size and wound in the usual manner, by the application of a battery composed of twenty-eight plates of copper and zinc each eight inches square."
"To Henry, therefore," says Mr. Taylor, "belongs the exclusive credit of having first constructed the magnetic 'spool' or 'bobbin,' that form of coil since universally employed for every application of electro-magnetism, of induction, or of magneto-electrics. This was his first great contribution to the science and to the art of galvanic magnetization....
"But, in addition to this large gift to science, Henry has the preëminent claim to popular gratitude of having first practically worked out the differing functions of two entirely different kinds of electro-magnet; the one surrounded with numerous coils of no great length, designated by him the 'quantity' magnet, the other surrounded with a continuous coil of very great length, designated by him the 'intensity' magnet.... Never should it be forgotten that he who first exalted the 'quantity' magnet of Sturgeon from a power of twenty pounds to a power of twenty hundred pounds was the absoluteCREATORof the 'intensity' magnet; and that the principles involved in this creation constitute the indispensable basis of every form of the electro-magnetic telegraph since invented."
Professor Silliman of Yale College said: "Henry has the honor of having constructed by far the most powerful magnets that have ever been known; and his last, weighing (armature and all) but 82½ pounds, sustains over a ton;—which is eight times more powerful than any magnet hitherto known in Europe."
"In 1831," says Professor Henry, "I arranged around one of the upper rooms of the Albany Academy a wire of more than a mile in length, through which I was enabled to make signals by sounding a bell. The mechanical arrangement for effecting this object was simply a steel bar, permanently magnetized, of about ten inches in length, supported on a pivot, and placed with its north end between the two arms of a horse-shoe magnet. When the latter was excited by the current, the end of the bar thus placed was attracted by one arm of the horse-shoe and repelled by the other, and was thus caused to move in a horizontal plane and its further end to strike a bell suitably adjusted." This was the first "sounding" electro-magnetic telegraph. With this growing fame he was not disposed to think too highly of himself. A friend, noticing a look of sadness in the face of the young professor, said to him,—"Albany will one day be proud of her son;" and so it proved.
A year before this, in May, 1830, Professor Henry had married, at thirty-one, Harriet L. Alexander of Schenectady, N. Y., a cultivated and helpful woman.
In 1832, Princeton College needed a professor of natural philosophy. Henry's friends heartily commended him for the position. Silliman said,—"Henry has no superior among the scientific men of the country," and Professor Renwick of Columbia College, New York, said, "He has no equal."
After six years at the Albany Academy, Henry removed to Princeton, where for fourteen years he added constantly to his fame and usefulness by original work. Of his discoveries in these fruitful years he gives the following summary, at the request of a friend:—
"I arrived in Princeton in November, 1832, and, as soon as I became fully settled in the chair which I occupied, I recommenced my investigations, constructed a still more powerful electro-magnet than I had made before,—one which would sustain over three thousand pounds,—and with it illustrated to my class the manner in which a large amount of power might, by means of a relay magnet, be called into operation at the distance of many miles.... The electro-magnetic telegraph was first invented by me, in Albany, in 1830.... At the time of making my original experiments on electro-magnetism in Albany, I was urged by a friend to take out a patent, both for its application to machinery and to the telegraph; but this I declined, on the ground that I did not then consider it compatible with the dignity of science to confine the benefits which might be derived from it to the exclusive use of any individual. In this perhaps I was too fastidious."
Professor Asa Gray well said, "For the telegraph and for electro-magnetic machines, what was now wanted was not discovery, but invention; not the ascertainment of principles, but the devising of methods." Morse is not to be less honored because somebody discovered the principle, which he and others utilized for the race, any more than Edison, Bell, and others, because Faraday and Henry helped to make their grand work possible.
"My next investigation, after being settled at Princeton," says Professor Henry, "was in relation to electro-dynamic induction. Mr. Faraday had discovered that when a current of galvanic electricity was passed through a wire from a battery, a current in an opposite direction was induced in a wire arranged parallel to this conductor. I discovered that an induction of a similar kind took place in the primary conducting wire itself, so that a current which, in its passage through a short wire conductor, would neither produce sparks nor shocks would, if the wire were sufficiently long, produce both those phenomena....
"A series of investigations was afterwards made, resulting in producing inductive currents of different orders, having different directions, made up of waves alternately in opposite directions....
"Another series of investigations, of a parallel character, was made in regard to ordinary or frictional electricity. In the course of these it was shown that electro-dynamic inductive action of ordinary electricity was of a peculiar character, and that effects could be produced by it at a remarkable distance. For example, if a shock were sent through a wire on the outside of a building, electrical effects could be exhibited in a parallel wire within the building."...
After this, investigations were made in atmospheric induction; induction from thunder clouds; in regard to lightning rods; on substances capable of exhibiting phosphorescence, such as the diamond, which, when exposed to the direct rays of the sun, and then removed to a dark place, emits a pale blue light; on a method of determining the velocity of projectiles; on the heat of the spots on the sun as compared with the rest of his disk; the detection of heat by the thermal telescope—"when the object was a horse in a distant field, the radiant heat from the animal was distinctly perceptible at a distance of at least several hundred yards;" on the cohesion of liquids; on the tenacity of soapwater in films; on the origin of mechanical power, and the nature of vital force.
Henry says:—
"The mechanical power exerted by animals is due to the passage of organized matter in the stomach, from an unstable to a stable equilibrium; or, as it were, from the combustion of the food. It therefore follows that animal power is referable to the same source as that from the combustion of fuel—namely, developed power of the sun's beams. But, according to this view, what is vitality? It is that mysterious principle—not mechanical power—which determines the form and arranges the atoms of organized matter, employing for this purpose the power which is derived from the food....
"Suppose a vegetable organism impregnated with a germ (a potato, for instance) is planted below the surface of the ground, in damp soil, under a temperature sufficient for vegetation. If we examine it from time to time, we find it sending down rootlets into the earth, and stems and leaves upward into the air. After the leaves have been fully expanded we shall find the tuber entirely exhausted, nothing but a skin remaining. The same effect will take place if the potato be placed in a warm cellar; it will continue to grow until all the starch and gluten are exhausted, when it will cease to increase. If, however, we now place it in the light, it will commence to grow again, and increase in size and weight. If we weigh the potato previous to the experiment, and the plant after it has ceased to grow in the dark, we shall find that the weight of the latter is a little more than half of the original tuber. The question then is, what has become of the material which filled the sac of the potato? The answer is, one part has run down into carbonic acid and water, and in this running down has evolved the power to build up the other part into the new plant. After the leaves have been formed and the plant exposed to the light of the sun, the developed power of its rays decomposes the carbonic acid of the atmosphere, and thus furnishes the pabulum and the power necessary to the further development of the organization.
"The same is the case with wheat, and all other grains that are germinated in the earth. Besides the germ of the future plant, there is stored away, around the germ, the starch and gluten to furnish the power necessary to its development, and also the food to build it up, until it reaches the surface of the earth and can draw the sources of its future growth from the power of the sunbeam. In the case of fungi and other plants that grow in the dark, they derive the power and the pabulum from surrounding vegetable matter in process of decay, or in that of evolving power."...
"What then is the office of vitality? We say that it is analogous to that of the engineer who directs the power of the steam-engine in the execution of its work."
"If he had published in 1844, with some fulness, as he then wrought them out," says Professor Gray, "his conception and his attractive illustrations of the sources, transformation, and equivalence of mechanical power, and given them fitting publicity, Henry's name would have been prominent among the pioneers and founders of the modern doctrine of the conservation of energy."
Henry always defined science as the "knowledge of natural law," and law as the "will of God." He found all things, even the storms, under the "control of laws—fixed, immutable, and eternal," and rejoiced in believing that "a Supreme Intelligence who knows no change" governs all. For him there was never any conflict between science and religion.
In February, 1837, Henry went to Europe, accompanied by Prof. Alexander D. Bache, at the head of the United States Coast Survey for eighteen years. He became the friend of Faraday; of Wheatstone, then Professor of Experimental Philosophy in King's College, who was engaged in developing his system of the needle telegraph; of Arago, Gay-Lussac, and other noted men. "At King's College," says Prof. Alfred M. Mayer, "Faraday, Wheatstone, Daniell, and Henry had met to try and evolve the electric spark from the thermopile. Each in turn attempted it and failed. Then came Henry's turn. He succeeded, calling in the aid of his discovery of the effect of a long interpolar wire wrapped around a piece of soft iron. Faraday became as wild as a boy, and, jumping up, shouted: 'Hurrah for the Yankee experiment!'" "It is not generally known or appreciated," says Professor Mayer, "that Henry and Faraday independently discovered the means of producing the electric current and the electric spark from a magnet.... Henry cannot be placed on record as thefirstdiscoverer of the magneto-electric current, but itcanbe claimed that he stands alone as itssecondindependent discoverer." Both James D. Forbes of Edinburgh and Henry obtained the spark, but were anticipated by Faraday.
Henry spoke before the various scientific societies. He was no longer the apprentice to a watch-maker, or the leader of private theatricals, but a distinguished scholar. By his own will and energy he had attained to this enviable position.
Meantime a man of science, in England, had thought out a great project for the benefit of his fellow-men. James Smithson, a wealthy English chemist, a Fellow of the Royal Society, unmarried, died in 1829. He left his property, over five hundred and forty thousand dollars, after the death of his nephew, provided that he died childless, "to the United States of America, to found at Washington, under the name of the Smithsonian Institution, an establishment for the increase and diffusion of knowledge among men." The nephew died six years later, unmarried.
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 archæology, 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, zoölogy, and archæology, 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."