Louis Agassiz: His Life and Correspondence

by Louis Agassiz

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."