Part 8

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BARON CUVIER.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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