8o SIMON NEWCOMB 



by works of real genius, he must, like the poet, be born, not 

 made. The born astronomer, when placed in command of a 

 telescope, goes about using it as naturally and effectively as 

 the babe avails itself of its mother's breast. He sees intuitively 

 what less gifted men have to learn by long study and tedious 

 experiment. He is moved to celestial knowledge b}^ a passion 

 which dominates his nature. He can no more avoid doing 

 astronomical work, whether in the line of observations or re- 

 search, than a poet can chain his Pegasus to earth. I do not 

 mean by this that education and training will be no use to 

 him. They will certainly accelerate his early progress. If 

 he is to become great on the mathematical side, not only must 

 his genius have a bend in that direction, but he must have the 

 means of pursuing his studies. And yet I have seen so many 

 failures of men who had the best instruction, and so many 

 successes of men who scarcely learned anything of their 

 teachers, that I sometimes ask whether the great American 

 celestial mechanician of the twentieth century mil be a grad- 

 uate of a university or of the backwoods. 



Is the man thus moved to the exploration of nature by 

 an unconquerable passion more to be envied or pitied? In no 

 other pursuit does success come with such certainty to him 

 who deserves it. No life is so enjoyable as that whose energies 

 are devoted to following out the inborn impulses of one's 

 nature. The investigator of truth is little subject to the dis- 

 appointments which await the ambitious man in other fields 

 of activity. It is pleasant to be one of a brotherhood extend- 

 ing over the world, in which no rivalry exists except that 

 which comes out of trying to do better work than any one else, 

 while mutual admiration stifles jealousy. And yet, with all 

 these advantages, the experience of the astronomer may have 

 its dark side. As he sees his field widening faster than he can 

 advance he is impressed with the littleness of all that can be 

 done in one short life. He feels the same want of successors 

 to pursue his work that the founder of a dynasty may feel for 

 heirs to occupy his throne. He has no desire to figure in his- 

 tory as a Napoleon of science whose conquests must terminate 

 with his life. Even during his active career his work may be 

 of such a kind as to require the co-operation of others and the 



