437

Character of Fourier.--His Death 438

LIVES

OF

DISTINGUISHED SCIENTIFIC MEN.

THE HISTORY OF MY YOUTH:

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO.

I have not the foolish vanity to imagine that any one, even a short time
hence, will have the curiosity to find out how my first education was
given, and how my mind was developed; but some biographers, writing off
hand and without authority, having given details on this subject utterly
incorrect, and of a nature to imply negligence on the part of my
parents, I consider myself bound to put them right.

I was born on the 26th of February, 1786, in the commune of Estagel, an
ancient province of Roussillon (department of the Eastern Pyrenees). My
father, a licentiate in law, had some little property in arable land, in
vineyards, and in plantations of olive-trees, the income from which
supported his numerous family.

I was thus three years old in 1789, four years old in 1790, five years
in 1791, six years in 1792, and seven years old in 1793, &c.

The reader has now himself the means of judging whether, as has been
said, and even stated in print, I had a hand in the excesses of our
first revolution.

My parents sent me to the primary school in Estagel, where I learnt the
rudiments of reading and writing. I received, besides, in my father's
house, some private lessons in vocal music. I was not otherwise either
more or less advanced than other children of my age. I enter into these
details merely to show how much mistaken are those who have printed that
at the age of fourteen or fifteen years I had not yet learnt to read.

Estagel was a halting-place for a portion of the troops who, coming from
the interior, either went on to Perpignan, or repaired direct to the
army of the Pyrenees. My parents' house was therefore constantly full of
officers and soldiers. This, joined to the lively excitement which the
Spanish invasion had produced within me, inspired me with such decided
military tastes, that my family was obliged to have me narrowly watched
to prevent my joining by stealth the soldiers who left Estagel. It often
happened that they caught me at a league's distance from the village,
already on my way with the troops.

On one occasion these warlike tastes had nearly cost me dear. It was the
night of the battle of Peires-Tortes. The Spanish troops in their
retreat had partly mistaken