CHAPTER III._Biographical Stories (From: "True Stories of History and Biography")

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The next day Edward began to get accustomed to his new condition of life.

Once, indeed, when his parents were out of the way and only Emily was left

to take care of him, he could not resist the temptation to thrust aside

the bandage and peep at the anxious face of his little nurse. But, in

spite of the dimness of the chamber, the experiment caused him so much

pain that he felt no inclination to take another look. So, with a deep

sigh, here signed himself to his fate.

“Emily, pray talk to me!” said he, somewhat impatiently.

Now, Emily was a remarkably silent little girl, and did not possess that

liveliness of disposition which renders some children such excellent

companions. She seldom laughed, and had not the faculty of making many

words about small matters. But the love and earnestness of her heart

taught her how to amuse poor Edward in his darkness. She put her

knitting-work into his hands.

“You must learn how to knit,” said she.

“What! without using my eyes?” cried Edward.

“I can knit with my eyes shut,” replied Emily.

Then with her own little hands she guided Edward’s fingers while he set

about this new occupation. So awkward were his first attempts that any

other little girl would have laughed heartily. But Emily preserved her

gravity, and showed the utmost patience in taking up the innumerable

stitches which he let down. In the course of an hour or two his progress

was quite encouraging.

When evening came, Edward acknowledged that the day had been far less

wearisome than he anticipated. But he was glad, nevertheless, when his

father and mother, and George and Emily, all took their seats around his

chair. He put out his hand to grasp each of their hands, and smiled with a

very bright expression upon his lips.

“Now I can see you all with my mind’s eye,” said he. “And now, father,

pray tell us another story.”

So Mr. Temple began.

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SIR ISAAC NEWTON.

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[BORN 1642, DIED 1727]

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On Christmas day, in the year 1642, Isaac Newton was born at the small

village of Woolsthorpe, in England. Little did his mother think, when she

beheld her newborn babe, that he was destined to explain many matters

which had been a mystery ever since the creation of the world.

Isaac’s father being dead, Mrs. Newton was married again to a clergyman,

and went to reside at North Witham. Her son was left to the care of his

good old grandmother, who was very kind to him and sent him to school. In

his early years Isaac did not appear to be a very bright scholar, but was

chiefly remarkable for his ingenuity in all mechanical occupations. He had

a set of little tools and saws of various sizes manufactured by himself.

With the aid of these Isaac contrived to make many curious articles, at

which he worked with so much skill that he seemed to have been born with a

saw or chisel in hand.

The neighbors looked with vast admiration at the things which Isaac

manufactured. And his old grandmother, I suppose, was never weary of

talking about him.

“He’ll make a capital workman one of these days,” she would probably say.

“No fear but what Isaac will do well in the world and be a rich man before

he dies.”

It is amusing to conjecture what were the anticipations of his grandmother

and the neighbors about Isaac’s future life. Some of them, perhaps,

fancied that he would make beautiful furniture of mahogany, rosewood, or

polished oak, inlaid with ivory and ebony, and magnificently gilded. And

then, doubtless, all the rich people would purchase these fine things to

adorn their drawing-rooms. Others probably thought that little Isaac was

destined to be an architect, and would build splendid mansions for the

nobility and gentry, and churches too, with the tallest steeples that had

ever been seen in England.

Some of his friends, no doubt, advised Isaac’s grandmother to apprentice

him to a clock-maker; for, besides his mechanical skill, the boy seemed to

have a taste for mathematics, which would be very useful to him in that

profession. And then, in due time, Isaac would set up for himself, and

would manufacture curious clocks, like those that contain sets of dancing

figures, which issue from the dial-plate when the hour is struck; or like

those where a ship sails across the face of the clock, and is seen tossing

up and down on the waves as often as the pendulum vibrates.

Indeed, there was some ground for supposing that Isaac would devote

himself to the manufacture of clocks; since he had already made one, of a

kind which nobody had ever heard of before. It was set a-going, not by

wheels and weights like other clocks, but by the dropping of water. This

was an object of great wonderment to all the people round about; and it

must be confessed that there are few boys, or men either, who could

contrive to tell what o’clock it is by means of a bowl of water.

Besides the water-clock, Isaac made a sundial. Thus his grandmother was

never at a loss to know the hour; for the water-clock would tell it in the

shade, and the dial in the sunshine. The sundial is said to be still in

existence at Woolsthorpe, on the corner of the house where Isaac dwelt. If

so, it must have marked the passage of every sunny hour that has elapsed

since Isaac Newton was a boy. It marked all the famous moments of his

life; it marked the hour of his death; and still the sunshine creeps

slowly over it, as regularly as when Isaac first set it up.

Yet we must not say that the sundial has lasted longer than its maker; for

Isaac Newton will exist long after the dial—yes, and long after the

sun itself—shall have crumbled to decay.

Isaac possessed a wonderful faculty of acquiring knowledge by the simplest

means. For instance, what method do you suppose he took to find out the

strength of the wind? You will never guess how the boy could compel that

unseen, inconstant, and ungovernable wonder, the wind, to tell him the

measure of its strength. Yet nothing can be more simple. He jumped against

the wind; and by the length of his jump he could calculate the force of a

gentle breeze, a brisk gale, or a tempest. Thus, even in his boyish

sports, he was continually searching out the secrets of philosophy.

Not far from his grandmother’s residence there was a windmill which

operated on a new plan. Isaac was in the habit of going thither

frequently, and would spend whole hours in examining its various parts.

While the mill was at rest he pried into its internal machinery. When its

broad sails were set in motion by the wind, he watched the process by

which the mill-stones were made to revolve and crush the grain that was

put into the hopper. After gaining a thorough knowledge of its

construction he was observed to be unusually busy with his tools.

It was not long before his grandmother and all the neighborhood knew what

Isaac had been about. He had constructed a model of the windmill. Though

not so large, I suppose, as one of the box traps which boys set to catch

squirrels, yet every part of the mill and is machinery was complete. Its

little sails were neatly made of linen, and whirled round very swiftly

when the mill was placed in a draught of air. Even a puff of wind from

Isaac’s mouth or from a pair of bellows was sufficient to set the sails in

motion. And, what was most curious, if a handful of grains of wheat were

put into the little hopper, they would soon be converted into snow-white

flour.

Isaac’s playmates were enchanted with his new windmill. They thought that

nothing so pretty and so wonderful had ever been seen in the whole world.

“But, Isaac,” said one of them, “you have forgotten one thing that belongs

to a mill.”

“What is that?” asked Isaac; for he supposed that, from the roof of the

mill to its foundation, he had forgotten nothing.

“Why, where is the miller?” said his friend.

“That is true,—I must look out for one,” said Isaac; and he set

himself to consider how the deficiency should be supplied.

He might easily have made the miniature figure of a man; but then it would

not have been able to move about and perform the duties of a miller. As

Captain Lemuel Gulliver had not yet discovered the island of Lilliput,

Isaac did not know that there were little men in the world whose size was

just suited to his windmill. It so happened, however, that a mouse had

just been caught in the trap; and, as no other miller could be found, Mr.

Mouse was appointed to that important office. The new miller made a very

respectable appearance in his dark gray coat. To be sure, he had not a

very good character for honesty, and was suspected of sometimes stealing a

portion of the grain which was given him to grind. But perhaps some

two-legged millers are quite as dishonest as this small quadruped.

As Isaac grew older, it was found that he had far more important matters

in his mind than the manufacture of toys like the little windmill. All day

long, if left to himself, he was either absorbed in thought or engaged in

some book of mathematics or natural philosophy. At night, I think it

probable, he looked up with reverential curiosity to the stars, and

wondered whether they were worlds like our own, and how great was their

distance from the earth, and what was the power that kept them in their

courses. Perhaps, even so early in life, Isaac Newton felt a presentiment

that he should be able, hereafter, to answer all these questions.

When Isaac was fourteen years old, his mother’s second husband being now

dead, she wished her son to leave school and assist her in managing the

farm at Woolsthorpe. For a year or two, therefore, he tried to turn his

attention to farming. But his mind was so bent on becoming a scholar that

his mother sent him back to school, and afterwards to the University of

Cambridge.

I have now finished my anecdotes of Isaac Newton’s boyhood. My story would

be far too long were I to mention all the splendid discoveries which he

made after he came to be a man. He was the first that found out the nature

of light; for, before his day, nobody could tell what the sunshine was

composed of. You remember, I suppose, the story of an apple’s falling on

his head, and thus leading him to discover the force of gravitation, which

keeps the heavenly bodies in their courses. When he had once got hold of

this idea, he never permitted his mind to rest until he had searched out

all the laws by which the planets are guided through the sky. This he did

as thoroughly as if he had gone up among the stars and tracked them in

their orbits. The boy had found out the mechanism of a windmill; the man

explained to his fellow-men the mechanism of the universe.

While making these researches he was accustomed to spend night after night

in a lofty tower, gazing at the heavenly bodies through a telescope. His

mind was lifted far above the things of this world. He may be said,

indeed, to have spent the greater part of his life in worlds that lie

thousands and millions of miles away; for where the thoughts and the heart

are, there is our true existence.

Did you never hear the story of Newton and his little dog Diamond? One

day, when he was fifty years old, and had been hard at work more than

twenty years studying the theory of light, he went out of his chamber,

leaving his little dog asleep before the fire. On the table lay a heap of

manuscript papers, containing all the discoveries which Newton had made

during those twenty years. When his master was gone, up rose little

Diamond, jumped upon the table, and overthrew the lighted candle. The

papers immediately caught fire.

Just as the destruction was completed Newton opened the chamber door, and

perceived that the labors of twenty years were reduced to a heap of ashes.

There stood little Diamond, the author of all the mischief. Almost any

other man would have sentenced the dog to immediate death. But Newton

patted him on the head with his usual kindness, although grief was at his

heart.

“O Diamond, Diamond,” exclaimed he, “thou little knowest the mischief then

hast done!”

This incident affected his health and spirits for some time afterwards;

but, from his conduct towards the little dog, you may judge what was the

sweetness of his temper.

Newton lived to be a very old man, and acquired great renown, and was made

a member of Parliament, and received the honor of knighthood from the

king. But he cared little for earthly fame and honors, and felt no pride

in the vastness of his knowledge. All that he had learned only made him

feel how little he knew in comparison to what remained to be known.

“I seem to myself like a child,” observed he, “playing on the sea-shore,

and picking up here and there a curious shell or a pretty pebble, while

the boundless ocean of Truth lies undiscovered before me.”

At last, in 1727, when he was fourscore and five years old, Sir Isaac

Newton died,—or rather, he ceased to live on earth. We may be

permitted to believe that he is still searching out the infinite wisdom

and goodness of the Creator as earnestly, and with even more success, than

while his spirit animated a mortal body. He has left a fame behind him

which will be as endurable as if his name were written in letters of light

formed by the stars upon the midnight sky.

“I love to hear about mechanical contrivances, such as the water-clock and

the little windmill,” remarked George. “I suppose, if Sir Isaac Newton had

only thought of it, he might have found out the steam-engine, and

railroads, and all the other famous inventions that have come into use

since his day.”

“Very possibly he might,” replied Mr. Temple; “and no doubt a great many

people would think it more useful to manufacture steam-engines than to

search out the system of the universe. Other great astronomers besides

Newton have been endowed with mechanical genius. There was David

Rittenhouse, an American,—lie made a perfect little water-mill when

he was only seven or eight years old. But this sort of ingenuity is but a

mere trifle in comparison with the other talents of such men.”

“It must have been beautiful,” said Edward, “to spend whole nights in a

high tower as Newton did, gazing at the stars, and the comets, and the

meteors. But what would Newton have done had he been blind? or if his eyes

had been no better than mine?”

“Why, even then, my dear child,” observed Mrs. Temple, “he would have

found out some way of enlightening his mind and of elevating his soul. But

come; little Emily is waiting to bid you good night. You must go to sleep

and dream of seeing all our faces.”

“But how sad it will be when I awake!” murmured Edward.

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Biographical Stories (From: "True Stories of History and Biography") · 第 3 / 9 章