Heroes of science

If natural history had never been studied in an easy manner, and had not the results of those studies been given to educated men desirous of knowing something about animals in popular yet correct works, very few men would have cared to become zoologists. It is the good, easy, popular, but not necessarily jocular book on natural history that, as a rule, excites the attention of the young, and stimulates the youth to obtain further knowledge. Such books were written at a very interesting time of the world, and just when they were wanted; and the writer was a very remarkable man—a man born to wealth and station, but who, like many others, preferred hard work and the study of nature to sloth and luxurious idleness, and even to the profession of arms, so much in vogue in the early part of the eighteenth century.

George Louis Leclerc de Buffon was born on September 7th, 1707, at Montbard, in Burgundy. He came of good family, and his father was councillor of the Burgundian parliament. His mother, Anne Christine Mazlin, appears to have possessed considerable natural gifts. She was also of good family, and was remarkable, in those days, for the elevation of her mind and strength of character. She was a better parent than the father who, although he was looked upon as a wonder in his province, in consequence of his wasteful living and devotion to feasts, balls, and concerts, was really only a person of average merit. The mother was tenderly loved by her son, but the father gave him some trouble in after years, on account of his follies. Nevertheless, it adds to the interest and good example of Buffon’s character to learn that he did not care to follow the agreeable life of his father, but that he broke away from it and took to wisdom, although having great property, he always lived and behaved like a nobleman of wealth and mental distinction.

Buffon was the oldest of five children, and the rest were devoted by the parents to the priesthood, or to nunneries; so it would appear that the father not only followed the rule of the day, to keep the property in the hands of the eldest son, but to provide for the others in the cheapest possible manner. The young noble was in due course sent to a school at Dijon kept by Jesuit fathers, the best instructors in those days; and report says that the boy was fond of arithmetic and had a character for decision and perseverance. After a while Buffon was entered at the academy of Angers, it being decided that the boy should follow his father as a magistrate and public man. There his love of study became evident, and his application was considerable. One of his associates was a young English nobleman, Lord Kingston, and they became great friends, and probably this friendship was caused and fostered by his lordship’s German tutor, Hinckman, who was a man of considerable learning. When he was nineteen years of age the three friends started for a tour in Italy. Returning to Angers to resume his studies, Buffon became a little wild, and got into a quarrel with a young Englishman at play. Buffon wounded his antagonist and had to leave the town. He went to Paris, but not to waste time; on the contrary, his former love of figures, and his later studies in mathematics, inspired him to translate Newton’s “Fluxions” into French, and also Hale’s “Vegetable Statics,” which subsequently he presented to the Academy of Sciences. Still keeping up his friendship with Lord Kingston, Buffon visited Italy again; and there is no doubt that Hinckman instilled the love of nature into the young man’s mind. They were all at Rome in 1732, when Buffon heard of the death of his mother, who was greatly mourned by him. He was then twenty-five years of age, and became very wealthy, as he was his mother’s heir. Journeying in Switzerland he began to know other English people of distinction. All these friendships led him at last to England, and he went to Thoresby, the seat of Lord Kingston, and remained in the country for some months.

Buffon had a very fine person, liked a little “show,” and the rather solemn and stilted manners of the British nobility pleased him. It was this stay in England, and his friendships, that gave Buffon some of the manners of the aristocracy of the day, so that Hume said of him that he resembled a marshal of France more than a man of letters. These habits, amongst which courtesy and true gentility—that is to say, treating other people as we would they should treat us in society—were predominant, clung to Buffon; and even when at home, and at his very hard and incessant labour in natural history, he kept up his state, and was the great French noble as well as the humble student of nature.

It is a curious fact, but one very readily explained, that Buffon, like nearly all the great zoologists, began his scientific life as a botanist. Plants are ever at hand, and their classification, good or bad, is readily learned. One of his first works, presented after receiving the honour of election to the Academy of Sciences at Paris, was on a question of the influence of barking trees; and others were on agriculture. He gave a proof that he was acquainted with the human frame, for he wrote on the causes of squinting.

Scientific men of nobility were rare in France in those days, and Buffon was appointed keeper to the Jardin du Roi and the Royal Museum. Anxious to continue his studies about trees, he prevailed on the king to let him experiment on a grand scale in one of the royal forests. But this was only a part of his work, for he commenced that great book on natural history which was always after to be associated with his name. It was not to be a simple book on animals, but on the history of the earth as well; and, in fact, he intended it to be an encyclopædia of all natural knowledge except mathematics and figures. It was a great conception and it was carried out year after year during success, domestic happiness and trouble. The perseverance and patience of the man were wonderful; and fortunately he had the means of collecting what was required, of buying books and of having secretaries to do the very troublesome and mechanical part of writing. He was short-sighted and wrote badly. It was not vanity, nor the desire of being great, that made Buffon work; certainly it was not amusement. But he was happy in his work, and he stated that genius is a gift which comes not from man; and the great man is an instrument in the Divine hand; he has a mission which may be for light or to ruin, and neither the environment of pleasure or glory or the troubles of fortune, ill-health, or misery should deter him from his ends. Genius, Buffon also termed, a very great aptitude for patience.

Daubenton assisted Buffon in his first three volumes of natural history, and they came out in 1749, and the other volumes came out year by year until his death.

Buffon lived carefully, and kept up the curious state of the French gentlemen of his day in his house. After he was dressed, he dictated letters and regulated his domestic affairs, and at six o’clock he retired to his studies in a building called the tower of St. Louis. This was in the garden, and far away from the house, and the only furniture in it was a wooden writing-table, with its cupboards and drawers, and an armchair. Neither pictures nor books relieved the naked appearance of the apartment, or distracted the thoughts of the learned professor. The entrance was by green folding doors, the walls were painted green, and the interior had the appearance of a chapel in consequence of the elevation of the roof. Within this garden was another building, where Buffon resided during the greater part of the year, as it was warmer than the other place, and here he composed most of his works. It was a small square building, situated on the side of a terrace, and was ornamented with drawings of birds and beasts. At nine o’clock Buffon usually took an hour’s rest and his breakfast, which consisted of a piece of bread and two glasses of wine. When he had written for two hours after breakfast, he returned to the house. At dinner he spent a considerable time in conversation, and relaxed his mind from work entirely, enjoying the wit and gaiety of his friends. He usually slept for an hour after dinner in his room and took a solitary walk, and during the rest of the evening he either conversed with his family or his guests, or sat at his desk examining papers which were submitted to his judgment. At nine o’clock he went to bed. In 1762, when fifty-five years of age, Buffon married a lady who was in every way suited to him, and who, moreover, took a deep interest in his studies. He was greatly attached to her, and her companionship made the country life all the more pleasant. Four years afterwards Louis XIV. ennobled Buffon and invited him to Fontainebleau to offer him the post of Administrator of the Forests of France, but Buffon declined the office. This great man was not above a little vanity: he liked to read the most interesting parts of his works to his friends, and to draw forth their admiration. He was, moreover, fond of dress and grandeur, but that was part of the society of his day. He had a fine countenance and figure, and it was his delight to display them to the best advantage. He dressed in the extreme of fashion, and amidst his studies found time to submit his head (perhaps it was only his wig) to the hairdresser, two or three times a day. On Sundays the peasantry of Montbard assembled to gaze at the Count after the service of the church, when he passed through their ranks magnificently dressed, with his son and his retainers.

The natural history was translated into English, German, Italian, Spanish, and Dutch, and its charming pages brought a knowledge of nature to many a home. Like most naturalists of eminence, Buffon interested himself about the ancient history of the earth. His writings were not original in that part of his subject, but what he did write contained much common sense. Nevertheless, the Faculty of Theology at Paris found fault with the geology, and informed him that no less than fourteen propositions in his works were reprehensible and contrary to the creed of the Church. Buffon was invited to recant, which he very foolishly did; and it must be mentioned that the “improper statements” are now believed in, by every educated man. It has been written of the great naturalists of the past, that Aristoteles has shown the profound combination of the laws of nature, Plinius her inexhaustible riches, Linnæus her wonderful details, and Buffon her majesty and power. Certainly his great work contains such pictures of nature as were never given before, and rarely since, by any naturalist. Buffon therefore had the happiness of bringing the cultivation of the science more generally into fashion than it had been previously. He was deficient in the orderly method of science, however; his work, supremely interesting and popular, was soon found to be inconsistent with the severely scientific study of nature. This want of order and classification led to the establishment of a new school of zoology.

Buffon’s social position was of great value and importance to him as a naturalist and to the state also, for he became the object of personal regard to many distinguished foreign princes, who did not hesitate to make presents of specimens to the national museums, through him. His wealth also enabled him to help the state, for he often purchased minerals and specimens of animals for which no public money had been granted. Frederick the Great of Prussia and his son Henry, the Emperor Joseph II. of Austria, Catherine of Russia, and the kings of Norway and Sweden, all knew Buffon, admired his works, and sent presents in order to complete his museum, which was devoted and given by him to the public. The Jardin du Roi was greatly enlarged at Buffon’s expense, and public opinion spoke well of the amiable and benevolent owner of Montbard.

But, as with other and less happily placed men, Buffon had to suffer, and the loss of his child, followed by the death of the wife he tenderly loved, in the prime of her life, were great shocks to him. He never was the same man afterwards, and sought to find forgetfulness in increased work and literary toil. Moreover, the ingratitude of the ruling power affected Buffon, who behaved, however, excellently, and took up the position which every man of his social condition should have maintained.

In February, 1771, Buffon was alarmingly ill, and, unknown to him, the king, Louis XV., nominated a Count d’Angiviller, to succeed in the administration of the Museums and Jardin de Roi. Buffon recovered, and found out this little job, and was naturally annoyed at the indecent haste of putting a man in his place at such a crisis; but he was most indignant when he knew who the man was—an ignoramus and court favourite, a perfectly incompetent man. It is said that Louis XV. on this occasion, to compensate Buffon for his annoyance, raised the Montbard property to the holding of a count. Certainly he ordered the sculptor, Pajon, to erect a full-sized statue of Buffon in the garden during his absence, and to put the inflated inscription on it, “His genius equals the majesty of nature.” Buffon resented this, and he wrote to the President de Ruffey: “I thank you for the part you have taken in procuring this statue, which I neither required nor solicited, and which would have done me greater honour if it had been erected after my death. I have always thought that a wise man should rather fear envy then value glory; all this has been done without consulting me.”

Some years afterwards an architect, who was employed in embellishing some of the buildings in the Jardin du Roi, wished to compliment Buffon, but this simple-minded, scientific man stated, “I cannot agree to any expenditure which will contribute to my personal glory, and I had nothing to do with the statue they erected to me.” In writing to Madame Necker, he showed how exactly he understood the French court, and appreciated its praises: “I passed the whole of yesterday and the day before in making observations and notes on a most important project presented to the king, relating to the planting of 100,000 fir trees for the masts of the navy. I would not grudge the time if my advice were likely to be useful and valued and taken; but in the high circle where you have not cared about remaining, they do sometimes consult competent men, and end, invariably, by following the advice of the ignorant.”

Buffon lived for many years after these troubles, and gained fresh laurels. Those which will last the longest were the results of his charming descriptions of the habits of animals. At last, at the age of eighty-one years, he died, full of honours, his last words addressed to his son being, “My son, never leave the path of virtue and honour; it is the true road to happiness.”

About a year before the death of George I., a son was born to a family of good old name and renown at Downing, in Flintshire. The child was christened Thomas, and his other name was Pennant, and these names are constantly coming before naturalists who particularly study zoology at the present time. Little is known about the early years of this ardent student, except that he was educated at Wrexham school. Like most boys he took notice of birds and their habits, and if one may judge from the results, he must have really begun to study the different kinds of birds, carefully, when he was about twelve years of age. He owed his opening career as a zoologist to Ray and Willughby, for it was a present made to him of the book of birds of this last author, that drew his attention to the study of nature which he never subsequently neglected.

After leaving school, Pennant was sent to Oxford, where his studies do not appear to have been of any importance, so far as the subjects which were taught were concerned. He did not take his degree, and yet it is evident that he studied the nature of things visible to him, and that he was well read in the science of the day. His mind was rather influenced by the writings of Linnæus, and in consequence he took an interest in mineralogy as well as about natural history. Immediately after leaving Oxford, Pennant began to travel about his own country, and visited Cornwall. He examined many of the mines, and studied the natural history of the districts, but he did not publish anything, being apparently an earnest student of what was already known. When twenty-four years of age an earthquake occurred at Downing, and Pennant wrote a description of it, which was read before the Royal Society and published in the “Philosophical Transactions.” This was a great honour for so young a man. Animals, however, and their shapes, habits, and similarities were his special study, and he laboured hard, year after year, in describing them. He got much practical knowledge of those of our own country, and finally, at the age of thirty-five, in 1761, he commenced the publication of his first great work, the “British Zoology,” which was printed in large folio, and when complete contained one hundred and thirty-two plates. He was well known before this magnificent work appeared, and Linnæus had urged the University of Upsala to elect him a member of their Royal Society. His great book appeared afterwards in smaller editions, and one in quarto is often used.

The “British Zoology” included the description of the species of animals at that time known to inhabit Great Britain, except the insects. So good was the work and so accurate were the descriptions, that it was translated into Latin and German, and had a large circulation abroad. Anxious to compare his work with those of foreign naturalists, and to see the specimens of similar animals in the great continental museums, Pennant travelled abroad in 1765, and made the acquaintance of the most important zoologists of the day. He visited Buffon at Montbard, and their friendship led to a correspondence, which lasted for years. Then he went on to Switzerland, and met Haller at Berne. Coming home by way of Germany and Holland, he met a distinguished traveller and naturalist, Pallas by name. Pennant wrote about him: “Our conversation related chiefly to natural history, and as we were both enthusiastic admirers of our great Ray, I proposed his undertaking a history of quadrupeds on the system of our countryman, a little reformed. He assented to my plan, and wrote me a long letter in which he sent me an outline of his design, and his resolution to pursue it with all the expedition consistent with his other engagements.” Pallas went to Russia, and never accomplished his object, but Pennant followed out the idea himself, and in 1771 published a work with the title of “A Synopsis of Quadrupeds,” illustrated with about thirty plates. This was intended as a kind of index to the species of animals described by Buffon in his great work on natural history. He gradually, however, extended its limits, and included in it the description of many animals which he had observed in collections or which had been discovered by travellers, and which had been unknown to Buffon. Years afterwards the great Cuvier said of this work, “that it is still indispensable to those who wish to study the history of quadrupeds.”

Struck with the interesting nature of the animals of India, which were then beginning to be studied, Pennant commenced a work about them, and twelve plates were completed. But it was a work far beyond the powers and pocket of a naturalist of that date, and it was not completed. A more congenial work was undertaken by him when he rambled about Scotland noticing the habits of the people and the birds. He seems to have observed much that was interesting, and to have published his remarks. Then he began a work on the genera of birds, on the plan of his books on quadrupeds, and this was not completed. He wrote a book on “Arctic Zoology,” which was of course a compilation from the works of travellers and foreign zoologists who had visited the countries within the arctic circle. He also received stuffed specimens from different foreign museums. It was a capital book, and it acquired a considerable reputation amongst naturalists, from its containing figures and descriptions of animals hitherto but little known. It is read at the present day, and is a proof of Pennant’s exactitude. Ever anxious to go on working, he even in his sixty-seventh year planned an extensive work which was to consider the natural history and antiquities of every country in the world. He absolutely did produce two great volumes of this work, taking Hindostan as his subject.

The great merit of Pennant was that he observed so much and was a capital practical zoologist. Moreover, his great knowledge of other things and his general accomplishments enabled him to sift the good from the bad zoology of his day. He appears to have lived the life of a student and naturalist when the kingdom was always in a whirlwind of politics, and when foreign troubles prevailed. Unlike most of his class, for he was a little country squire, living on his own estate at Downing, he devoted himself to nature, and for many years his books gave great enjoyment to thousands of his countrymen. They are most readable books, full of anecdotes, and it is evident that he was a master of his mother tongue, a great antiquary, besides a naturalist of the first order. He was one of the few men who followed the science of zoology without having the previous education of a medical man, and, like all good zoologists, he was an excellent botanist.

Some of Pennant’s tours through England, Wales, and Scotland are exceedingly instructive in the antiquities of places, but the most interesting remarks are upon natural history subjects, some of which are scientific and others not at all so. When in Lincolnshire he noticed the fens near Revesby Abbey, eight miles beyond Horncastle, which he says are of vast extent, but serve for little other purpose than the rearing of great numbers of geese, which are the wealth of the fenmen. “During the breeding season these birds are lodged in the same houses with the inhabitants and even in their very bed-chambers. In every apartment there are three rows of coarse wicker pens, placed one above another; each bird has its separate lodge divided from the other, which it keeps possession of during its time of setting. A person called a gozzard attends the flock, and twice a day drives the whole to water; then brings them back to their habitations, helping those that live in the upper stories to their nests, without even misplacing a single bird. The geese are plucked five times in the year. The first plucking is at Lady Day, for feathers and quills, and the same is renewed, for feathers only, four times between this and Michaelmas. The old geese submit very quietly to the operation, but the young ones are very noisy and unruly. I once saw this performed, and observed that the goslings of six weeks old were not spared, for their tails were plucked, as I was told to habituate them early to what they were to come to. If the season proves cold, numbers of geese die from this barbarous custom. Vast numbers are driven annually to London to supply the markets; among them all the superannuated geese and ganders (here called cagmags) which serve to fatigue the jaws of the good citizens who are so unfortunate as to meet with them.” He proceeds, “It is observable that once in seven or eight years, immense shoals of sticklebacks appear in the Welland below Spalding, and attempt coming up the river in a vast column. They are supposed to be the collected multitudes washed out of the fens by the floods of several years, and carried into some deep hole. When, overcharged with numbers, they are obliged to attempt a change of place, they move up the river in such quantities as to enable a man who was employed in taking them, to earn, for a considerable time, four shillings a day by selling them at a halfpenny per bushel. They were used to manure land, and attempts have been made to get oil from them.” “The birds which inhabit the different fens are very numerous; I never met with a finer field for the zoologist to range in. Besides the common wild duck, wild geese, gorganies, pochards, shovellers, and teals breed here. I have seen in the east fen a small flock of the tufted ducks; but they seemed only to make it a baiting place. The pewits, gulls, and black terns abound; the last in vast flocks almost deafen one with their clamour, and a few of the great terns are seen amongst them. I saw several of the great crested grebes on the east fen, called there gaunts, and met with one of their floating nests with eggs in it. The lesser crested grebe, the black and dusky grebe, and the little grebe are also inhabitants of the fens, together with the coots, water-hens, spotted water-hens, water-rails, ruffs, redshanks, lapwings or wipes, red crested godwits and whimbrels.” “But the greatest curiosity in those parts is the vast heronry at Cressi Hall, six miles from Spalding. The herons resort there in February to repair their nests, settle there in the spring to breed, and quit the place during the winter. They are as numerous as rooks, and their nests are so crowded together that myself and the company that was with me, counted not less than eighty on one spreading oak. I found that the crested heron was only the male of the other, and it made a most beautiful appearance with its snowy neck and long crest streaming with the wind.” Visiting Scarborough, and giving much information about the different kinds of fish caught, he states: “At a distance of four or five leagues from shore, during the months of July and August, it is remarked that at the depth of six or seven fathoms from the surface, the water appears to be saturated like a thick jelly, filled with the ova of fish, which reaches ten or twelve fathoms deeper; this is known by its adhering to the ropes, the cables, and anchor when they are fishing.” “Landing at a small island further north, we found the female eider ducks at that time sitting; the lower part of their nests was made of sea plants, the upper part was formed of the down which they pulled off their own breasts, in which the eggs were surrounded and warmly bedded. In some nests were three and in others five eggs of large size and pale olive colour, as smooth and glossy as if varnished over. The nests are built on the beach among the loose pebbles, not far from the water. The ducks sit very close, nor will they rise until you almost tread upon them. We robbed the nests of some down, and found that the down of one only weighs three quarters of an ounce, but was so elastic as to fill the crown of a hat.”

Pennant deserved good health and had it, for, except when old age came on, he was a singularly healthy man. He died in 1798, at the age of seventy-two years.

Jean Baptiste Antoine de Monet, also called the Chevalier de Lamarck, was born at Bazantin, a village of Picardy, on April 1st, 1744. He was the eleventh child of Pierre de Monet, the principal person of the neighbourhood, whose small estate was disproportionate to his huge family. But the Church was a resource for such families, and occasionally its great prizes were taken by the younger members of noble houses. So M. de Monet determined to prepare his son, at an early age, for this hopeful future, and sent him to the Jesuit College at Amiens. However, the inclinations of the child were not those which made it probable that he would succeed in the direction which his father had chosen for him. Everything around the boy, at home, was quite opposed to a clerical career. For centuries his ancestors had carried arms, and his eldest brother was killed at the siege of Bergen-op-Zoom. Two brothers were in the army, and at that time France was in dire trouble, and required every man who could fight, it was therefore not probable that young Lamarck would stay at home. Nevertheless, his father resisted his desire to enter the army, and the young man had to study year after year, until he was sixteen years of age. Then in 1760 the father died, and the youth was left to his own resources. He set forth for the army, mounted on a sorry horse, and accompanied by a poor boy out of the village, to journey across France into Germany to join the French army. He had a letter of introduction from one of his neighbours, Madame Lameth, to M. de Lartié, colonel of the regiment of Beaujolais, who did not receive him very gladly, for the wretchedness of the boy made him look more helpless than he really was. Nevertheless, he sent Lamarck to his barracks and had him to do duty. It was at a most critical moment that the brave, self-reliant boy joined the army. It was about July 14th, 1761, and M. de Broglie had just united his force with that of the Prince du Sorbise, preparatory to attacking, on the next day, the allied army, commanded by Frederick of Brunswick. At break of day M. de Lartié inspected his regiment, and the first person he saw was the newly-arrived volunteer, who, without orders, had placed himself in the first rank of the grenadier company. The battle, which was fought at Fissingshausen, between Ham and Leppstadt, was lost by the French, and during the fight, the company, in which was M. de Lamarck, was placed in a locality on which the whole of the allied artillery was concentrated, and it was forgotten to be moved during the confusion of the retreat. All the officers and sub-officers were killed, and only sixteen men remained, when the oldest grenadier, seeing that they were left behind by their army, proposed to the young volunteer that they should retreat. Lamarck said, “They have posted us here, and we ought not to move until we are relieved,” and insisted on remaining. By-and-by the colonel, missing the company, sent them an order to retreat by safe ways, and under the shelter of what they could get. This act of great courage was told to the Marshal de Broglie, and he made Lamarck an officer on the spot. Then he was made lieutenant. But such a brilliant commencement was not to have a military termination, and a miserable accident gave a new direction to his life. When Lamarck, after the war, was in garrison at Monaco, one of his fellow-officers lifted him up by the head, and the result was to injure his neck. He nearly died from the effects of this folly, and was saved by a distinguished surgeon at Paris, M. Tenon, whose operation left Lamarck with life, and a fearfully scarred neck, and unable to follow his profession. The treatment occupied a whole year, and he was so poor, that one of his biographers states, rather cruelly, that his necessary solitude gave him plenty of time for meditation. It is remarkable that although Lamarck cared more for the army than for his studies at college he really worked there, and what he learned was of great use to him in his future career. His hours of weary suffering were sometimes employed in studying the clouds, and in noticing their different shapes and appearances. He got by this means some vague ideas of meteorology. He had already been attracted, during his stay at Monaco, by the curious vegetation of that rocky country, and lad taken a fancy for botany from reading a treatise on common plants, which happened to fall in his way. He therefore began to see that the profession of arms was not the only one worth living for, or in which distinction might be earned; and he took the bold resolution of applying himself to the study of medicine. This, considering the smallness of his resources, was hardly less hazardous than his former determination to join the army. Unable to defray the expense attending the studies to which he now applied himself, he was forced to seek employment as a banker’s clerk, and thus to work for the means of pursuing his purpose. He studied medicine four years, and at the end of that time, not finding it accord with his taste, he relinquished it, in order to attach himself the more closely to botany. In this science he laboured most perseveringly, and after a preparation of ten years he suddenly revealed himself and his views to the learned world in a work as remarkable for the novelty of the plan, as for the mode of execution. “For a long time,” says Cuvier, “while collecting plants, and visiting the Jardin du Roi, Lamarck gave way to discussions with other botanists on the imperfections of all the systems of classification then known, and on the ease with which a new system might be created, capable of determining plants with greater quickness and certainty. Wishing to prove what he had so often affirmed he set to work, and after six months of incessant labour he produced his “Flore Française.” This work was merely an epitome of plants indigenous to France, to which Lamarck had not ventured to add one new species; but it was a convenient and sure guide to the name of every plant, and was peculiarly acceptable at a time when the writings of Rousseau had rendered botany popular. By Lamarck’s arrangement, the most easily reconciled portions of the systems then in vogue, namely, those of Tournefort, Linnæus, and Jussieu, were selected to form a new method of classification. This method was admired by the Academy of Sciences, and was also recommended by Buffon, who had sufficient interest to get it published at the expense of the government, for the benefit of the author who much needed such aid. Lamarck was promoted to a vacant place in the Académie des Sciences, and during 1781-82 he went as tutor and botanist to Buffon’s son through Holland, Germany, and Hungary, visiting public establishments and learned men. On his return to France, he applied himself zealously to his former studies, and produced the botanical portion of the “Encyclopédie Methodique.” Lamarck laboured diligently at his work, and even with too much precipitation, for haste was injurious to correctness. He also drew a series of plates to illustrate the different genera of plants. These appeared, arranged according to the Linnæan system, though contrary to the wish of the author. Lamarck went on with the work until the breaking out of the Revolution arrested the publication of the Encyclopédie.

In 1788 Lamarck was associated with Daubenton as botanist of the Cabinet du Jardin du Roi, and charged with the preservation and arrangement of the herbariums. Here, amidst his peaceful occupations and studies, he remained unmolested amidst all the troubles of the Revolution. But Lamarck was miserably poor; his pension for his services in the army, was less than one shilling a day, and he wrote for bad pay. Buffon could not give him a position worth anything; and it was not until the successor of that great man came in office that Lamarck had a little salary given to him as one of the assistants in the herbarium. Even this miserable appointment was not assured to him, for the National Assembly was desirous of suppressing the establishment, and finally did so. Lamarck had married, and had a family, and weary indeed must have been his life had he not been devoted to science. He took no part in the French revolution, and whilst poverty at home and danger out of doors were constant, he persisted in studying nature. Years passed away, and the best part of a life was spent, and still Lamarck was not a zoologist. The eternal fame which he attained began to be earned after the fiftieth year of his age, when circumstances over which he had no control gave him the opportunity of distinguishing himself, and of adding materially to the truths of science as well as to its theories. The Jardin et Cabinet du Roi were rearranged in their purpose and name in 1793, and were called the Museum of Natural History; and all the old officials were made professors, and had to teach the subjects best known or chosen by them. Lamarck, as the last comer, had to take what the others left and would not undertake to teach. It was the professorship which related to the class of animals, called by Linnæus, worms and insects, and which had hitherto been almost overlooked, on account of the supposed unimportance of the subject.

Until that time Lamarck had never studied animals, and of course knew nothing of the branch of zoology which was now entrusted to him. He had taken an interest in shells, and had made a small collection, but this was all. But he did not shrink from the task before him. He set to work with inexhaustible courage, availing himself of the advice of his friends, and applying to the new study all that sagacity and perseverance which had already been so invaluable to him in his botanical works. By his indefatigable zeal in this new sphere of inquiry Lamarck was soon enabled to discover and to demonstrate that the animals whose history had been left to him through contempt, were quite as interesting as others, if not more so, on account of their vast numbers, the important part they perform in nature, the infinite variety of their forms, and the wonders of their organization. His extraordinary labours in this department have contributed much more to his fame than his botanical writings, and are certainly more valuable. He seems to have exercised his abilities to the utmost in these researches; and if, since that time, it has been necessary in some instances to alter, to amend, or to extend the limits of his work, yet it remains a lasting memento of his talents, and it will be long ere any one will be found sufficiently profound in knowledge to undertake a general revision and alteration of his works.

At the present day, when any student begins to learn the zoology of the lower animals, he will find a very great number of genera with the name of Lamarck placed after them, indicating that he first of all described and published them. As the student becomes accomplished he will appreciate Lamarck more and more, and will come to the conclusion that no one has done such good and solid work as that distinguished Frenchman, amongst the vast assemblage of animals which he first of all called invertebrata, or animals without backbones. This term he used in preference to the old one of white or colourless-blooded animals, as he soon saw that some had red blood. Lamarck worked very hard in describing and grouping the genera, and gradually modified the zoology of those lower forms of life. First of all he classified them by their anatomy, and then, after about fifteen years’ labour, remodelled his classification, and published a system of invertebrata, containing the classes, orders, and genera of the animals, mentioning their most important anatomical characters. In this book he, for the first time amongst zoologists, began with the most simple and least highly organized animals, the converse having been the method previously. There was a reason in this that will be noticed further on. Out of the confusion of old he made the great groups appear clear and well defined. Thus from amongst the insects he separated the crustacea or crab tribe, and he introduced that of the arachnida or spiders. Then he described and limited a class of worms called by him annelida; moreover, he placed the microscopic infusoria in a class by themselves, and removed them from the jumble of the polypes. His work extended into the mollusca, both bivalve and univalve; he named many genera and species of corals, and in every group showed a master mind. The fossil shells found in such abundance at this time, in the neighbourhood of Paris, attracted his attention, and he laboured on their description and explanation. In fact, the enormous labours of Lamarck consolidated the zoology of the lower animals, and his writings became the text-books of all his successors, and will be referred to, as long as science lasts. He had a most singular capacity for distinguishing animals into kinds or species, and a more important one of observing the alliances or common characters of different species. All his descriptive work was of a standard and solid nature. His great work appeared from 1815 to 1822, and it was founded on that just mentioned; some of it was edited by his daughter, and M. Latreille wrote the parts on insects, and much of those of the mollusca was due to M. Valenciennes. Five volumes were by Lamarck himself.

It is a very unusual occurrence for a man to take up a new subject after he is fifty years of age, and to become a master in it. But Lamarck did this. It is true that his previous training as a botanist had prepared him, and it is also true that his years of solitude and poverty had given him a singularly placid and meditative mind, and this was strengthened by his natural courage. Had Lamarck been a descriptive zoologist only, he would have been great; but the very method which made him great originated in some remarkable speculations which had hardly been expressed, seriously, by any man before. Not only did he place the animal kingdom with the lowest first, but he considered the will, instinct, and apparent reason of animals, and classified them accordingly with those which are apathetic, sensible, and intelligent. The idea of lowness of organization or of structure and lowness of nervous power amongst the simplest animals struck him to be of primary importance. Hitherto, quite as many people believed that the highest and most intelligent animals were created first, and that the lower ones had degenerated from them. Lamarck conceived that nature, acting by law, commenced with the simplest things, and that one species formed others, so that the present animals and plants are the outcome of those of the past history of the earth. He believed in incessant change in nature, and that when our knowledge is complete the apparently well separated and defined species will be found to be united by intermediate forms, and cease to be species.

Hitherto naturalists had considered kinds of animals and plants, or species as they are more properly called, to have been specially created as they are seen by us, and that they were unalterable and invariable. No one with any great knowledge of animals and plants had speculated about the origin of species, and the causes of the differences of kinds, or had endeavoured to place all the great classes of the animal kingdom in a series, maintaining that they were related by descent. Right or wrong in his speculations, Lamarck made an epoch in zoology, by writing on the philosophy of zoology, and dealing with the possible causes of the different kinds of animals. He considered that during all the geological ages, down to the present time, animals and plants had been exposed to great changes in their external conditions; changes of climate, and of physical geography had happened, and that whilst some species had become extinct many had been changed, little by little, into others. Lamarck, and M. Geoffrey St. Hilaire declared it to be their opinion that there had been an uninterrupted succession in the animal kingdom, effected by means of birth and offspring from parents, from the earliest ages of the world to the present day, and that the ancient animals, whose remains have been preserved in strata, however different, may nevertheless have been the ancestors of those now in being.

If the reader will turn to the short notice of Aristoteles, he will find the ordinary idea of what a species means given. But Lamarck added something: “A species consists of a collection of individuals resembling each other, and reproducing their like by generation, so long as the surrounding conditions do not alter to such an extent as to cause their habits, characters, and forms to vary.” He stated what is only known to those naturalists who have had experience; the more we advance in the knowledge of the different organized bodies which cover the surface of the globe, the more our embarrassment increases to determine what ought to be regarded as a species, and still more how to limit and distinguish genera. In proportion as our collections are enriched, we see almost every void filled up, and all our lines of separation effaced; we are reduced to arbitrary determinations, and are sometimes fain to seize upon the slight differences of mere varieties in order to form characters for what we choose to call a species, and sometimes we are induced to pronounce individuals, but slightly differing, and which others regard as true species, to be varieties. The greater the abundance of natural objects assembled together, the more do we discover proofs that everything passes by invariable shades into something else; that even the more remarkable differences are evanescent, and that nature has, for the most part, left us nothing at our disposal for establishing distinctions save trifling, and in some instances puerile, peculiarities. We find that many genera amongst animals and plants are of such an extent, in consequence of the number of species referred to them, that the study and determination of these last has become almost impracticable. From a great number of facts we learn, wrote Lamarck, that in proportion as the individuals of one of our known species change their situation, climate, and manner of living, they change also little by little, the consistence and proportions of their parts, their form, their faculties, and even their organization, in such a manner that everything in them comes at last to participate in the mutations to which they have been exposed. Even in the same climate, a great difference of situation and exposure causes individuals to vary; but if these individuals continue to live, and to be reproduced under the same difference of circumstances, distinctions are brought about in them which become in some degree essential to their existence; and, in a word, at the end of many successive generations, these individuals which originally belonged to another species are transformed into a new and distinct species.

All this came from the study of a man who had an enormous experience, and if he had not gone on any further it would have been better. Lamarck’s views already stated may be accepted by everybody, and the grand changes in living forms under law are doubtless true. But he introduced the notion that “wants” exercised an influence and produced new organs, and wrote about effects of internal sentiment, and the influence of subtle fluids. Thus he argued that otters, beavers, waterfowl, turtles, and frogs, were not made web-footed in order that they might swim; but their wants having attracted them to the water in search of prey, they stretched out the toes of their feet to strike the water and move more rapidly along its surface. By the repeated stretching of their toes, the skin that united them at the base acquired the habit of extension, until, in the course of time, the broad membranes which now connect their extremities were formed.

Lamarck taught that the first animals and plants which appeared on the globe were the simplest, and that the more complex are of comparatively late date. He insisted that nature was an order of things constituted by the Supreme Being, and subject to laws which are the expressions of His will. There is no doubt that these views of Lamarck were the result of many a pleasant hour of thought when things were dark enough around him. He was always poor, he married four times, had a large family, and a very small income. His genius led him to investigate other branches of natural science for which his education had not very well prepared him, and he got into disgrace with Napoleon for paying attention to meteorology. His patrimony and savings were lost in some wild speculation, and his thorough independence of thought and behaviour did not make him friends with the great and wealthy. His sight failed, and age grew apace, and he may be said to have simply existed for some years. Strangers and scientific men saw his state and poverty with surprise and regret; and their sympathy with Lamarck was redoubled when they observed the fortitude with which the illustrious old man supported the vicissitudes of fortune, and the failing of his natural powers. They also admired the devotion with which he had been able to inspire those of his children who remained under his roof. His eldest daughter consecrated her time to the duties of filial love for many years, never quitting her father for an instant, lending herself to every study which could in any way supply the defect of his vision, writing under his dictation part of his last works, accompanying him, and supporting him when he was able to take any exercise, and enduring sacrifices greater than could be expressed for his sake. When the father could no longer leave his chamber, the daughter no longer quitted the house. So long was she deprived of fresh air, that when she again faced the open breeze it was more than she could bear. If such conduct as this is rare, so is the power of inspiring such devoted affection; therefore we add to the renown of Lamarck, when it is told what his children endured for his sake. Lamarck died on the 18th December, 1829, aged eighty-five, and left two sons and two daughters behind him. Full of ability and perseverance, he has left such monuments of industry and solid learning behind him, that his favourite theory, containing indeed the germs of truth, may be well pardoned. People who know nothing of his good work, laugh at his memory; but every true student of nature constantly recognizes his obligations to the founder of philosophical zoology.