This passage is formed by a deep gorge, _Louis Agassiz: His Life and Correspondence

over which many a waterfall foams from reservoirs of snow above.

Agassiz observed two old glacier beds on the western side of the

pass--two shallow depressions, lying arid and scored between

swelling wooded ridges. He had not met in all the journey a better

locality for the study of glacial effects than here. The sides of

the channel show these traces throughout their whole length. In

this same neighborhood, as a conspicuous foreground on the shore of

Indian Reach, to the south of Lackawanna Cove, is a large moraine

resembling the "horse-backs," in the State of Maine, New England.

The top was as level as a railroad embankment. The anchorage for

the night was in Eden Harbor, and for that evening, at least, it

was lovely enough to deserve its name. The whole expanse of its

land-locked waters, held between mountains and broken by islands,

was rosy and purple in the setting sun. The gates of the garden

were closed, however, not by a flaming sword, but by an

impenetrable forest, along the edge of which a scanty rim of beach

hardly afforded landing or foothold. The collections here,

therefore, were small; but a good haul was made with the trawl net,

which gathered half-a-dozen species of echinoderms, some small

fishes, and a number of shells. Fog detained the vessel in Eden

Harbor till a late hour in the morning, but the afternoon was

favorable for the passage through the English Narrows, the most

contracted part of Smythe's Channel. It is, indeed, a mere mountain

defile, through which the water rushes with such force that, in

navigating it, great care was required to keep the vessel off the

rocks. Her anchorage at the close of the day was in Connor's Cove,

a miniature harbor not unlike Borja Bay in the Strait. It was a

tranquil retreat. The water-birds seemed to find it so, for the

steamer ducks were trailing their long wakes through the water, and

a large kind of stormy petrel sailed up to the vessel, and almost

put himself into the hands of the sailors, with whom he remained an

unresisting prisoner.

Geologically, Agassiz found Connor's Cove of especial interest. It

runs east and west, opening on the eastern side of the channel; but

the knolls, that is to say, the rounded surfaces at its entrance,

are furrowed across the cove, at right angles with it. In other

words, the movement of the ice, always from south to north, has

been with Smythe's Channel, and across the Strait of Magellan.

Indeed it seemed to Agassiz that all the glacial agency in Smythe's

Channel, the trend of the furrows, the worn surfaces whereon they

were to be found, and the steepness of southern exposures as

compared with the more rounded opposite slopes, pointed to the same

conclusion.

On the third of April Agassiz left with regret this region of ocean

and mountain, glacier, snow-field, and forest. The weeks he had

spent there were all too short for the work he had hoped to do.

Yet, trained as he was in glacial phenomena, even so cursory an

observation satisfied him that in the southern, as in the northern

hemisphere, the present glaciers are but a remnant of the ancient

ice-period.

After two days of open sea and head winds, the next anchorage was

in Port San Pedro, a very beautiful bay opening on the north side

of Corcovado Gulf, with snow mountains in full sight; the Peak of

Corcovado and a wonderfully symmetrical volcanic mountain,

Melimoya, white as purest marble to the summit, were clearly

defined against the sky. Forests clothed the shore on every side,

and the shelving beach met the wood in a bank of wild Bromelia,

most brilliant in color. Not only were excellent collections made

on this beach, but the shore was strewn with large accumulations of

erratics. Among them was a green epidotic rock which Agassiz had

traced to this spot from the Bay of San Antonio on the Patagonian

coast, without ever finding it in place. Some of the larger

boulders had glacial furrows and scratches upon them, and all the

hills bordering the shore were rounded and moutonnee. One of the

great charms for Agassiz in the scenery of all this region, and

especially in the Strait of Magellan, was a kind of home feeling

that it gave him. Although the mountains rose from the ocean,

instead of from the plain as in Switzerland, yet the snow-fields

and the glaciers carried him back to his youth. To him, the sunset

of this evening in the Port San Pedro, with the singular

transparent rose color over the snow mountains, and the soft

succeeding pallor, was the very reproduction of an Alpine sunset.

The next morning brought a disappointment. From this point Agassiz

had hoped to continue the voyage by the inside passage between the

main-land and the island of Chiloe. This was of importance to him,

on account of its geological relation to Smythe's Channel and the

Strait of Magellan. In the absence of any good charts of the

channel, the Captain, after examining the shoals at the entrance,

was forced to decide, almost as much to his own regret as to that

of Agassiz, not to attempt the further passage. Keeping up the

outer coast of Chiloe, therefore, the vessel anchored before Ancud

on the 8th of April. It was a heavenly day. The volcanic peak of

Osorno and the whole snowy Cordilleras were unveiled. The little

town above the harbor, with its outlying farms on the green and

fertile hills around, seemed like the very centre of civilization

to people who had been so long out of the world. It is said to rain

in Ancud three hundred and sixty-five days in the year. But on this

particular afternoon it was a very sunny place, and the inhabitants

seemed to avail themselves of their rare privilege. Groups of

Indians, who had come across the river in the morning to sell their

milk in the town, were resting in picturesque groups around their

empty milk-cans, the women wrapped in their long shawls, the men in

their ponchos and slouched hats; the country people were driving

out their double teams of strong, powerful oxen harnessed to wooden

troughs filled with manure for the fields; the washerwomen were

scrubbing and beating their linen along the roadside; the gardens

of the poorest houses were bright with large shrubs of wild

fuchsia, and, altogether, the aspect of the little place was

cheerful and pretty. Agassiz had but two or three hours for a look

at the geology. Even this cursory glance sufficed to show him that

the drift materials, even to their special mineralogical elements,

were the same as in the Magellan Strait. Here they rested, however,

on volcanic soil.

Stopping at Lota for coal, but not long enough for any scientific

work, the Hassler entered Concepcion Bay on the 15th April, and

anchored near Talcahuana, where she was to remain some three weeks

for the repair of her engine. This quaint, primitive little town is

built upon one of the finest harbors on the Pacific coast. Agassiz

was fortunate in finding, through the kindness of Captain Johnson,

a partially furnished house, where several large vacant rooms,

opening on the "patio," served admirably as scientific

laboratories. Here, then, he established himself with his

assistants. It was soon understood that every living thing would

find a market with him, and all the idle urchins about the town

flocked to the house with specimens. An unceasing traffic of birds,

shells, fish, etc., went on there from morning to night, and to the

various vendors were added groups of Indians coming to have their

photographs taken. There were charming excursions and walks in the

neighborhood, and the geology of the region was so interesting that

it determined Agassiz to go by land from Talcahuana to Valparaiso,

on a search after any glacial tracks that might be found in the

valley lying between the Cordillera of the Andes and the Coast

Range. Meanwhile the Hassler was to go on a dredging expedition to

the island of Juan Fernandez, and then proceed to Valparaiso, where

Agassiz was to join her a fortnight later. Although this expedition

was under the patronage of the Coast Survey, the generosity of Mr.

Thayer, so constantly extended to scientific aims, had followed

Agassiz on this second journey. To his kindness he owed the

possibility of organizing an excursion apart from the direct object

of the voyage. This change of plan and its cause is told in the

following extract from his general report to Professor Peirce:--

APRIL 27th.

While I was transcribing my Report, Pourtales came in with the

statement that he had noticed the first indication of an Andean

glacier in the vicinity. I have visited the locality twice since.

It is a magnificent polished surface, as well preserved as any I

have ever seen upon old glaciated ground or under glaciers of the

present day, with well-marked furrows and scratches. Think of it! a

characteristic surface, indicating glacier action, in latitude 37

degrees south, at the level of the sea! The place is only a few

feet above tide level, upon the slope of a hill on which stand the

ruins of a Spanish fort, near the fishermen's huts of San Vicente,

which lies between Concepcion Bay and the Bay of Aranco. Whether

the polished surface is the work of a glacier descending from the

Andes to the sea-shore or not, I have not yet been able to

determine. I find no volcanic pebbles or boulders in this vicinity,

which, after my experience in San Carlos, I should expect all along

the shore, if the glaciers of the Andes had descended to the level

of the ocean, in this part of the country. The erratics here have

the character of those observed farther south. It is true the

furrows and scratches of this polished surface run mainly from east

to west; but there are some crossing the main trend, at angles

ranging from 20 to 30 degrees, and running south-east-north-west.

Moreover, the magnetic variation is 18 degrees 3 degrees at

Talcahuano April 23rd, the true meridian bearing to the right of

the magnetic. I shall soon know what to make of this, as I start

to-morrow for the interior, to go to Santiago and join the ship

again at Valparaiso. I have hired a private carriage, to be able

to stop whenever I wish so to do. I also take a small seine to fish

for fresh water fishes in the many streams intervening between this

place and Valparaiso. The trend of the glacial scratches in San

Vicente reminds me of a fact I have often observed in New England

near the sea-shore, where the glacial furrows dip to a considerable

extent eastward toward the deep ocean, while further inland their

trend is more regular and due North and South. . .

"I had almost forgotten to say that I have obtained unquestionable

evidence of the cretaceous age of the coal deposits of Lota and the

adjoining localities, north and south, which are generally supposed

to be tertiary lignites. They are overlaid by sandstone containing

Baculites! I need not adduce other evidence to satisfy geologists

of the correctness of my assertion. I have myself collected a great

many of these fossils, in beds resting upon coal-seams. Ever truly

yours,

LOUIS AGASSIZ."

On the 28th of April, then, Agassiz left Talcahuana, accompanied by

Mrs. Agassiz, and by Dr. Steindachner, who was to assist him in

making collections along the way. They were to travel post, along

the diligence road, until they reached Curicu, within half a day of

Santiago, where railroad travel began. It was a beautiful journey,

and though the rainy season was impending, the fair weather was

uninterrupted. The way lay for the most part through an

agricultural district of corn, wheat, and vineyards. In this

strange land, where seasons are reversed, and autumn has changed

places with spring, the work of harvest and vintage was just going

on. The road was full of picturesque scenes: troops of mules might

be met, a hundred at a time, laden with corn-sacks; the queer,

primitive carts of the country creaked along, carrying huge

wine-jars filled with the fresh new juice of the grape; the road

was gay with country people in their holiday dresses; the women,

who wore their bright shawls like a kind of mantle, were sometimes

on foot and sometimes pillioned behind the men, who were invariably

on horseback, and whose brilliant ponchos and fine riding added to

the impression of life and color. Rivers and streams were frequent;

and as there were no bridges, the scenes at the fords, sometimes

crossed on rafts, sometimes on flat boats, worked by ropes, were

exciting and picturesque. For rustic interiors along the road side,

there were the huts of the working people, rough trellises of

tree-trunks interwoven with branches; green as arbors while fresh,

a coarse thatch when dry. There was always a large open space in

front, sheltered by the projecting thatch of the house, and

furnished sometimes with a rough table and benches. Here would be

the women at their work, or the children at play, or sometimes the

drovers taking their lunch of tortillas and wine, while their

animals munched their midday meal hard by. The scenery was often

fine. On the third day the fertile soil, watered by many rivers,

was exchanged for a sandy plain, broken by a thorny mimosa

scattered over the surface. This plain lay between the Cordillera

of the Andes and the Coast Range. As the road advanced farther

inland, the panorama of the Cordilleras became more and more

striking. In the glow of the sunset, the peaks of the abrupt,

jagged walls and the volcano-like summits were defined against the

sky in all their rugged beauty. There was little here to remind one

of the loveliness of the Swiss Alps. With no lower green slopes, no

soft pasturage grounds leading gently up to rocky heights, the

Andes, at least in this part of their range, rise arid, stern, and

bold from base to crest, a fortress wall unbroken by tree or shrub,

or verdure of any kind, and relieved only by the rich and varied

coloring of the rock.

The lodgings for the night were found in small towns along the

road, Tome, Chilian, Linarez, Talca, Curicu, and once, when there

was no inn within reach, at a hospitable hacienda.

A brief sketch of the geological observations made on this

excursion is found in a letter from Agassiz to Mr. Peirce. He never

wrote out, as he had intended to do, a more detailed report.

OFF GUATEMALA, July 29, 1872.

MY DEAR PEIRCE,

. . .I have another new chapter concerning glacial phenomena,

gathered during our land-journey from Talcahuana to Santiago. It is

so complicated a story that I do not feel equal now to recording

the details in a connected statement, but will try to give you the

main facts in a few words.

There is a broad valley between the Andes and the Coast Range, the

valley of Chilian, extending from the Gulf of Ancud, or Port de

Mott, to Santiago and farther north. This valley is a continuation,

upon somewhat higher level, of the channels which, from the Strait

of Magellan to Chiloe, separate the islands from the main-land,

with the sole interruption of Tres Montes. Now this great valley,

extending for more than twenty-five degrees of latitude, is a

CONTINUOUS GLACIER BOTTOM, showing plainly that for its whole

length the great southern ice-sheet has been retreating southward

in it. I could find nowhere any indication that glaciers descending

from the Andes had crossed this valley and reached the shores of

the Pacific. In a few brief localities only did I notice Andean, i.

e. volcanic, erratics upon the loose materials filling the old

glacier bottom. Between Curicu and Santiago, however, facing the

gorge of Tenon, I saw two distinct lateral moraines, parallel to

one another, chiefly composed of volcanic boulders, resting upon

the old drift, and indicating by their position the course of a

large glacier that once poured down from the Andes of Tenon, and

crossed the main valley, without, however, extending beyond the

eastern slope of the Coast Range. These moraines are so well marked

that they are known throughout the country as the cerillos of

Tenon, but nobody suspects their glacial origin; even the

geologists of Santiago assign a volcanic origin to them. What is

difficult to describe in this history are the successive retrograde

steps of the great southern ice-field that, step by step, left

larger or smaller tracts of the valley to the north of it free of

ice, so that large glacial lakes could be formed, and seem, indeed,

always to have existed along the retreating edge of the great

southern glacier. The natural consequence is that there are

everywhere stratified terraces without border barriers (since these

were formed only by the ice that has vanished), resting at

successively higher or lower levels, as you move north or south,

upon unstratified drift of older date; the northernmost of these

terraces being the oldest, while those further south belong to later

steps in the waning of the ice-fields. From these data I infer that

my suggestion concerning the trend of the strike upon the polished

and glaciated surface of the vicinity of Talcahuana, alluded to in

the postscript of my last letter, is probably correct. . .

At Santiago Agassiz rested a day or two. Here, as everywhere

throughout the country, he met with the greatest kindness and

cordiality. A public reception and dinner were urged upon him by

the city, but his health obliged him to decline this and like

honors elsewhere. Among the letters awaiting him here, was one

which brought him a pleasant surprise. It announced his election as

Foreign Associate of the Institute of France,--"one of the eight."

As the crowning honor of his scientific career, this was, of

course, very gratifying to him. In writing soon after to the

Emperor of Brazil, who had expressed a warm interest in his

election, he says: "The distinction pleased me the more because so

unexpected. Unhappily it is usually a brevet of infirmity, or at

least of old age, and in my case it is to a house in ruins that the

diploma is addressed. I regret it the more because I have never

felt more disposed for work, and yet never so fatigued by it."

From Santiago Agassiz proceeded to Valparaiso, where he rejoined

the ship's company. The events of their cruise had been less

satisfactory than those of his land-journey, for, owing to the

rottenness of the ropes, produced by dampness, the hauls of the

dredge from the greatest depths had been lost. Several pauses for

dredging in shallower waters were made with good success,

nevertheless, on the way up the coast to Callao. From there the

Hassler put out to sea once more, for the Galapagos, arriving

before Charles Island on the 10th of June, and visiting in

succession Albemarle, James, Jarvis, and Indefatigable islands.

Agassiz enjoyed extremely his cruise among these islands of such

rare geological and zoological interest. Purely volcanic in

character, and of very recent formation, they yet support a fauna

and flora quite their own, very peculiar and characteristic.

Albemarle Island was, perhaps, the most interesting of all. It is a

barren mountain rising from the sea, its base and slope covered

with small extinct craters. No less than fifty--some perfectly

symmetrical, others irregular, as if blasted out on one side--could

be counted from the deck as the vessel neared the shore. Indeed,

the whole island seemed like some subterranean furnace, of which

these craters were the chimneys. The anchorage was in Tagus Sound,

a deep, quiet bay, less peaceful once, for its steep sides are

formed by the walls of an old crater.

The next day, June 15, was spent by the whole scientific party in a

ramble on shore. The landing was at the foot of a ravine. Climbing

its left bank, they were led by a short walk to the edge of a large

crater, which held a beautiful lake in its cup. It was, in fact, a

crater within a crater, for a second one, equally symmetrical, rose

outside and above it. Following the brink of this lake to its upper

end, they struck across to the head of the ravine. It terminated in

a ridge, which looked down upon an immense field or sea of hardened

lava, spreading over an area of several miles till it reached the

ocean. This ancient bed of lava was full of the most singular and

fantastic details of lava structure. It was a field of charred

ruins, among which were more or less open caves or galleries, some

large enough to hold a number of persons standing upright, others

hardly allowing room to creep through on hands and knees. Rounded

domes were common, sometimes broken, sometimes whole; now and then

some great lava bubble was pierced with a window blasted out of the

side, through which one could look down to the floor of a deep,

underground hollow.

The whole company, some six or eight persons, lunched in one of the

caves, resting on the seats formed by the ledges of lava along its

sides. It had an entrance at either end, was some forty feet long,

at least ten feet high in the centre, and perhaps six or eight feet

wide. Probably never before had it served as a banqueting hall.

Such a hollow tunnel or arch had been formed wherever the interior

of a large mass of lava, once cooled, had become heated again, and

had flowed out, leaving the outside crust standing. The whole story

of this lava bed is so clearly told in its blackened and extinct

remains, that it needs no stretch of the imagination to recreate

the scene. It is again, a heaving, palpitating sheet of fire; the

dead slags are aglow, and the burned-out furnaces cast up their

molten, blazing contents, as of old. Now it is the home of the

large red and orange-colored iguanas, of which a number were

captured, both alive and dead. These islands proved, indeed,

admirable collecting grounds, the more interesting from the

peculiarity of their local fauna.

FROM AGASSIZ TO PROFESSOR PEIRCE.

OFF GUATEMALA, July 29.

. . .Our visit to the Galapagos has been full of geological and

zoological interest. It is most impressive to see an extensive

archipelago, of MOST RECENT ORIGIN, inhabited by creatures so

different from any known in other parts of the world. Here we have

a positive limit to the length of time that may have been granted

for the transformation of these animals, if indeed they are in any

way derived from others dwelling in different parts of the world.

The Galapagos are so recent that some of the islands are barely

covered with the most scanty vegetation, itself peculiar to these

islands. Some parts of their surface are entirely bare, and a great

many of the craters and lava streams are so fresh, that the

atmospheric agents have not yet made an impression on them. Their

age does not, therefore, go back to earlier geological periods;

they belong to our times, geologically speaking. Whence, then, do

their inhabitants (animals as well as plants) come? If descended

from some other type, belonging to any neighboring land, then it

does not require such unspeakably long periods for the

transformation of species as the modern advocates of transmutation

claim; and the mystery of change, with such marked and

characteristic differences between existing species, is only

increased, and brought to a level with that of creation. If they

are autochthones, from what germs did they start into existence? I

think that careful observers, in view of these facts, will have to

acknowledge that our science is not yet ripe for a fair discussion

of the origin of organized beings. . .

There is little to tell for the rest of the voyage that cannot be

condensed into a few words. There was a detention for despatches

and for Coast Survey business at Panama,--a delay which was turned

to good account in collecting, both in the Bay and on the Isthmus.

At San Diego, also, admirable collections were made, and pleasant

days were spent. This was the last station on the voyage of the

Hassler. She reached her destination and entered the Golden Gate on

the 24th of August, 1872. Agassiz was touched by his reception in

San Francisco. Attentions and kindnesses were showered upon him

from all sides, but his health allowed him to accept only such

hospitalities as were of the most quiet and private nature. He

passed a month in San Francisco, but was unable to undertake any of

the well-known excursions to the Yosemite Valley or the great

trees. Rest and home became every day more imperative necessities.

CHAPTER 25.

1872-1873: AGE 65-66.

Return to Cambridge.

Summer School proposed.

Interest of Agassiz.

Gift of Mr. Anderson.

Prospectus of Penikese School.

Difficulties.

Opening of School.

Summer Work.

Close of School.

Last Course of Lectures at Museum.

Lecture before Board of Agriculture.

Illness.

Death.

Place of Burial.

In October, 1872, Agassiz returned to Cambridge. To arrange the

collections he had brought back, to write a report of his journey

and its results, to pass the next summer quietly at his Nahant

laboratory, continuing his work on the Sharks and Skates, for which

he had brought home new and valuable material, seemed the natural

sequence of his year of travel. But he found a new scheme of

education on foot; one for which he had himself given the first

impulse, but which some of his younger friends had carefully

considered and discussed in his absence, being confident that with

his help it might be accomplished. The plan was to establish a

summer school of natural history somewhere on the coast of

Massachusetts, where teachers from our schools and colleges could

make their vacations serviceable, both for work and recreation, by

the direct study of nature. No sooner was Agassiz once more at home

than he was confronted by this scheme, and he took it up with

characteristic ardor. Means there were none, nor apparatus, nor

building, nor even a site for one. There was only the ideal, and to

that he brought the undying fervor of his intellectual faith. The

prospectus was soon sketched, and, once before the public, it

awakened a strong interest. In March, when the Legislature of

Massachusetts made their annual visit to the Museum of Comparative

zoology, Agassiz laid this new project before them as one of deep

interest for science in general, and especially for schools and

colleges throughout the land. He considered it also an educational

branch of the Museum, having, as such, a claim on their sympathy,

since it was in the line of the direct growth and continuance of

the same work. Never did he plead more eloquently for the cause of

education. His gift as a speaker cannot easily be described. It was

born of conviction, and was as simple as it was impassioned. It

kept the freshness of youth, because the things of which he spoke

never grew old to him, but moved him to the last hour of his life

as forcibly as in his earlier years.

This appeal to the Legislature, spoken in the morning, chanced to

be read in the evening papers of the same day by Mr. John Anderson,

a rich merchant of New York. It at once enlisted his sympathy both

for the work and for the man. Within the week he offered to

Agassiz, as a site for the school, the island of Penikese, in

Buzzard's Bay, with the buildings upon it, consisting of a

furnished dwelling-house and barn. Scarcely was this gift accepted

than he added to it an endowment of 50,000 dollars for the

equipment of the school. Adjectives belittle deeds like these. The

bare statement says more than the most laudatory epithets.

Agassiz was no less surprised than touched at the aid thus

unexpectedly offered. In his letter of acknowledgment he says: "You

do not know what it is suddenly and unexpectedly to find a friend

at your side, full of sympathy, and offering support to a scheme

which you have been trying to carry out under difficulties and with

very scanty means. I feel grateful to you for making the road so

easy, and I believe you will have the permanent gratitude of

scientific men here and elsewhere, for I have the utmost confidence

that this summer school will give valuable opportunities for

original research, as well as for instruction." At Agassiz's

suggestion the school was to bear the name of "The Anderson School

of Natural History." Mr. Anderson wished to substitute the name of

Agassiz for his own. This Agassiz absolutely refused to permit,

saying that he was but one of many scientific men who had already

offered their services to the school for the coming summer, some of

whom would, no doubt, continue to work for it in the future, and

all of whom would be equally indebted to Mr. Anderson. It was,

therefore, most suitable that it should bear his name, and so it

was agreed.

Thus the material problem was solved. Name and habitation were

found; it remained only to organize the work for which so fitting a

home had been provided. Mr. Anderson's gift was received toward the

close of March, and, in the course of the following month, the

preliminaries were concluded, and the property was transferred to

the trustees of the Anderson School.

Few men would have thought it feasible to build dormitories and

laboratories, and provide working apparatus for fifty pupils as

well as for a large corps of teachers, between May and July. But to

Agassiz no obstacles seemed insurmountable where great aims were

involved, and the opening of the school was announced for the 8th

of July. He left Boston on Friday, the 4th of July, for the island.

At New Bedford he was met by a warning from the architect that it

would be simply impossible to open the school at the appointed

date. With characteristic disregard of practical difficulties, he

answered that it must be possible, for postponement was out of the

question. He reached the island on Saturday, the 5th, in the

afternoon. The aspect was certainly discouraging. The dormitory was

up, but only the frame was completed; there were no floors, nor was

the roof shingled. The next day was Sunday. Agassiz called the

carpenters together. He told them that the scheme was neither for

money, nor for the making of money; no personal gain was involved

in it. It was for the best interests of education, and for that

alone. Having explained the object, and stated the emergency, he

asked whether, under these circumstances, the next day was properly

for rest or for work. They all answered "for work." They

accordingly worked the following day from dawn till dark, and by

night-fall the floors were laid. On Monday, the 7th, the partitions

were put up, dividing the upper story into two large dormitories;

the lower, into sufficiently convenient working-rooms. On Tuesday

morning (the 8th), with the help of a few volunteers, chiefly

ladies connected with the school, who had arrived a day or two in

advance, the dormitories, which were still encumbered by shavings,

sawdust, etc., were swept, and presently transformed into not

unattractive sleeping-halls. They were divided by neat sets of

furniture into equal spaces, above each of which was placed the

name of the person to whom it was appropriated. When all was done,

the large open rooms, with their fresh pine walls, floors, and

ceilings, the rows of white beds down the sides, and the many

windows looking to the sea, were pretty and inviting enough. If

they somewhat resembled hospital wards, they were too airy and

cheerful to suggest sickness either of body or mind.

Next, a large barn belonging to Mr. Anderson's former establishment

was cleared, and a new floor laid there also. This was hardly

finished (the last nails were just driven) when the steamer, with

its large company, touched the wharf. There was barely time to

arrange the seats and to place a table with flowers where the

guests of honor were to sit, and Agassiz himself was to stand, when

all arrived. The barn was, on the whole, not a bad lecture-room on

a beautiful summer day. The swallows, who had their nests without

number in the rafters, flew in and out, and twittered softly

overhead; and the wide doors, standing broadly open to the blue sky

and the fresh fields let in the sea-breeze, and gave a view of the

little domain. Agassiz had arranged no programme of exercises,

trusting to the interest of the occasion to suggest what might best

be said or done. But, as he looked upon his pupils gathered there

to study nature with him, by an impulse as natural as it was

unpremeditated, he called upon them to join in silently asking

God's blessing on their work together. The pause was broken by the

first words of an address no less fervent than its unspoken

prelude.* (* This whole scene is fitly told in Whittier's poem,

"The Prayer of Agassiz".)

Thus the day, which had been anticipated with so much anxiety,

passed off, unclouded by any untoward accident, and at evening the

guests had departed. Students and teachers, a company of some fifty

or sixty persons, were left to share the island with the sea-gulls

whose haunt it was.

We will not enter into the daily details of the school. It was a

new phase of teaching, even for Agassiz, old as he was in the work.

Most of his pupils were mature men and women, some of whom had been

teachers themselves for many years. He had, therefore, trained

minds to deal with, and the experience was at that time as novel as

it was interesting. The novelty has worn off now. Summer schools

for advanced students, and especially for teachers, have taken

their place in the general system of education; and, though the

Penikese school may be said to have died with its master, it lives

anew in many a sea-side laboratory organized on the same plan, in

summer schools of Botany and field classes of Geology. The impetus

it gave was not, and cannot be, lost, since it refreshed and

vitalized methods of teaching.

Beside the young men who formed his corps of teachers, among whom

the resident professors were Dr. Burt G. Wilder, of Cornell

University, and Professor Alpheus S. Packard, now of Brown

University, Agassiz had with him some of his oldest friends and

colleagues. Count de Pourtales was there, superintending the

dredging, for which there were special conveniences, Mr. Charles G.

Galloupe having presented the school with a yacht for the express

purpose. This generous gift gave Agassiz the greatest pleasure, and

completed the outfit of the school as nothing else could have done.

Professor Arnold Guyot, also,--Agassiz's comrade in younger years,

--his companion in many an Alpine excursion,--came to the island to

give a course of lectures, and remained for some time. It was their

last meeting in this world, and together they lived over their days

of youthful adventure. The lectures of the morning and afternoon

would sometimes be followed by an informal meeting held on a little

hill, which was a favorite resort at sunset. There the whole

community gathered around the two old friends, to hear them talk of

their glacial explorations, one recalling what the other had

forgotten, till the scenes lived again for themselves, and became

almost equally vivid for their listeners. The subject came up

naturally, for, strange to say, this island in a New England bay

was very suggestive of glacial phenomena. Erratic materials and

boulders transported from the north were scattered over its

surface, and Agassiz found the illustrations for his lectures on

this topic ready to his hand. Indeed, some of his finest lectures

on the ice-period were given at Penikese.

Nothing could be less artificial, more free from constraint or

formality, than the intercourse between him and his companions of

this summer. He was at home with every member of the settlement.

Ill-health did not check the readiness of his sympathy; languor did

not chill the glow of his enthusiasm. All turned to him for help

and inspiration. Walking over their little sovereignty together,

hunting for specimens on its beaches, dredging from the boats, in

the laboratory, or the lecture-room, the instruction had always the

character of the freest discussion. Yet the work, although combined

with out-of-door pleasures, and not without a certain holiday

element, was no play. On the part of the students, the application

was close and unremitting; on the part of the teachers, the

instruction, though untrammeled by routine, was sustained and

systematic.

Agassiz himself frequently gave two lectures a day. In the morning

session he would prepare his class for the work of the day; in the

afternoon he would draw out their own observations by questions,

and lead them, by comparison and combination of the facts they had

observed, to understand the significance of their results. Every

lecture from him at this time was a lesson in teaching as well as

in natural history, and to many of his hearers this gave his

lectures a twofold value, as bearing directly upon their own

occupation. In his opening address he had said to them: "You will

find the same elements of instruction all about you wherever you

may be teaching. You can take your classes out, and give them the

same lessons, and lead them up to the same subjects you are

yourselves studying here. And this mode of teaching children is so

natural, so suggestive, so true. That is the charm of teaching from

Nature herself. No one can warp her to suit his own views. She

brings us back to absolute truth as often as we wander."

This was the bright side of the picture. Those who stood nearest to

Agassiz, however, felt that the strain not only of work, but of the

anxiety and responsibility attendant upon a new and important

undertaking, was perilous for him. There were moments when this

became apparent, and he himself felt the danger. He persevered,

nevertheless, to the end of the summer, and only left Penikese when

the school broke up.

In order to keep the story of this final effort unbroken, some

events of great interest to Agassiz and of importance to the Museum

have been omitted. In the spring the Museum had received a grant of

25,000 dollars from the Legislature. To this was added 100,000

dollars, a birthday gift to Agassiz in behalf of the institution he

so much loved. This last sum was controlled by no official body and

was to be expended at his own good will and pleasure, either in

collections, publications, or scientific assistance, as seemed to

him best. He therefore looked forward to a year of greater ease and

efficiency in scientific work than he had ever enjoyed before. On

returning from Penikese, full of the new possibilities thus opened

to him, he allowed himself a short rest, partly at the sea-shore,

partly in the mountains, and was again at his post in the Museum in

October.

His last course of lectures there was on one of his favorite

topics,--the type of Radiates as connected with the physical

history of the earth, from the dawn of organic life till now. In

his opening lecture he said to his class: "You must learn to look

upon fossil forms as the antiquarian looks upon his coins. The

remains of animals and plants have the spirit of their time

impressed upon them, as strongly as the spirit of the age is

impressed upon its architecture, its literature, its coinage. I

want you to become so familiar with these forms, that you can read

off at a glance their character and associations." In this spirit

his last course was conceived. It was as far-reaching and as clear

as usual, nor did his delivery evince failure of strength or of

mental power. If he showed in any way the disease which was even

then upon him, it was by an over-tension of the nerves, which gave

increased fervor to his manner. Every mental effort was, however,

succeeded by great physical fatigue.

At the same time he had undertaken a series of articles in the

"Atlantic Monthly," entitled, "Evolution and Permanence of Type."

They were to have contained his own convictions regarding the

connection between all living beings, upon which his studies had

led him to conclusions so different from the philosophy of the day.

Of these papers, only one was completed. It was his last word upon

science; the correction of the proofsheets was the last act of his

working life, and the article was published after his death. In it

he claimed that the law of evolution, in a certain sense as true to

him as to any so-called evolutionist, was a law "controlling

development, and keeping types within appointed cycles of growth."

He maintained that this law acts within definite limits, and never

infringes upon the great types, each one of which is, in his view,

a structural unit in itself. Even metamorphoses, he adds, "have all

the constancy and invariability of other modes of embryonic growth,

and have never been known to lead to any transition of one species

into another." Of heredity he says: "The whole subject of

inheritance is exceedingly intricate, working often in a seemingly

capricious and fitful way. Qualities, both good and bad, are

dropped as well as acquired, and the process ends sometimes in the

degradation of the type, and the survival of the unfit rather than

the fittest. The most trifling and fantastic tricks of inheritance

are quoted in support of the transmutation theory; but little is

said of the sudden apparition of powerful original qualities, which

almost always rise like pure creations, and are gone with their day

and generation. The noblest gifts are exceptional, and are rarely

inherited; this very fact seems to me an evidence of something more

and higher than mere evolution and transmission concerned in the

problem of life. In the same way the matter of natural and sexual

selection is susceptible of very various interpretations. No doubt,

on the whole, Nature protects her best. But it would not be

difficult to bring together an array of facts as striking as those

produced by the evolutionists in favor of their theory, to show

that sexual selection is by no means always favorable to the

elimination of the chaff, and the preservation of the wheat. A

natural attraction, independent of strength or beauty, is an

unquestionable element in this problem, and its action is seen

among animals as well as among men. The fact that fine progeny are

not infrequently the offspring of weak parents, and vice versa,

points, perhaps, to some innate power of redress by which the

caprices of choice are counterbalanced. But there can be no doubt

that types are as often endangered as protected by the so-called

law of sexual selection."

"As to the influence of climate and physical conditions," he

continues, "we all know their power for evil and for good upon

living beings. But there is, nevertheless, nothing more striking in

the whole book of nature than the power shown by types and species

to resist physical conditions. Endless evidence may be brought from

the whole expanse of land and air and water, showing that identical

physical conditions will do nothing toward the merging of species

into one another, neither will variety of conditions do anything

toward their multiplication. One thing only we know absolutely, and

in this treacherous, marshy ground of hypothesis and assumption, it

is pleasant to plant one's foot occasionally upon a solid fact here

and there. Whatever be the means of preserving and transmitting

properties, the primitive types have remained permanent and

unchanged,--in the long succession of ages, amid all the appearance

and disappearance of kinds, the fading away of one species and the

coming in of another,--from the earliest geological periods to the

present day. How these types were first introduced, how the species

which have successively represented them have replaced one another,

--these are the vital questions to which no answer has been given.

We are as far from any satisfactory solution of this problem as if

development theories had never been discussed."

In conclusion, he sketches the plan of these articles. "I hope in

future articles to show, first, that, however broken the geological

record may be, there is a complete sequence in many parts of it,

from which the character of the succession may be ascertained;

secondly, that, since the most exquisitely delicate structures, as

well as embryonic phases of growth of the most perishable nature,

have been preserved from very early deposits, we have no right to

infer the disappearance of types because their absence disproves

some favorite theory; and, lastly, that there is no evidence of a

direct descent of later from earlier species in the geological

succession of animals."

This paper contained the sentence so often quoted since, "A

physical fact is as sacred as a moral principle. Our own nature

demands from us this double allegiance." This expressed the secret

of his whole life. Every fact in nature was sacred to him, as part

of an intellectual conception expressed in the history of the earth

and the beings living upon it.

On the 2nd of December, he was called to a meeting of the

Massachusetts Board of Agriculture at Fitchburg, where he lectured

in the evening on "The structural growth of domesticated animals."

Those who accompanied him, and knew the mental and physical

depression which had hung about him for weeks, could not see him

take his place on the platform, without anxiety. And yet, when he

turned to the blackboard, and, with a single sweep of the chalk,

drew the faultless outline of an egg, it seemed impossible that

anything could be amiss with the hand or the brain that were so

steady and so clear.

The end, nevertheless, was very near. Although he dined with

friends the next day, and was present at a family festival that

week, he spoke of a dimness of sight, and of feeling "strangely

asleep." On the 6th he returned early from the Museum, complaining

of great weariness, and from that time he never left his room.

Attended in his illness by his friends, Dr. Brown-Sequard and Dr.

Morrill Wyman, and surrounded by his family, the closing week of

his life was undisturbed by acute suffering and full of domestic

happiness. Even the voices of his brother and sisters were not

wholly silent, for the wires that thrill with so many human

interests brought their message of greeting and farewell across the

ocean to his bedside. The thoughts and aims for which he had lived

were often on his lips, but the affections were more vivid than the

intellect in these last hours. The end came very peacefully, on the

14th of December, 1873. He lies buried at Mount Auburn. The boulder

that makes his monument came from the glacier of the Aar, not far

from the spot where his hut once stood; and the pine-trees which

are fast growing up to shelter it were sent by loving hands from

his old home in Switzerland. The land of his birth and the land of

his adoption are united in his grave.

INDEX.

Aar, glacier.

last visit to.

boulder-monument from.

Abert, Colonel.

"Academy, The Little".

Ackermann.

Actiniae.

Adelstaetten.

Agassiz, Alexander.

Agassiz, Auguste.

Agassiz, Cecile Braun.

talent as an artist.

Agassiz, Elizabeth Cary.

Agassiz, Louis.

as a teacher.

This passage is formed by a deep gorge, cleft between lofty walls