SKETCH OF DR. ERASMUS DARWIN'S LIFE.
Proceeding now to the second of the three founders of the theory of
evolution, I find, from a memoir by Dr. Dowson, that Dr. Erasmus Darwin
was born at Elston, near Newark, in Nottinghamshire, on the 12th of
December, 1731, being the seventh child and fourth son of Robert Darwin,
"a private gentleman, who had a taste for literature and science, which
he endeavoured to impart to his sons. Erasmus received his early
education at Chesterfield School, and later on was entered at St. John's
College, Cambridge, where he obtained a scholarship of about 16_l._ a
year, and distinguished himself by his poetical exercises, which he
composed with uncommon facility. He took the degree of M.B. there in
1755, and afterwards prepared himself for the practice of medicine by
attendance on the lectures of Dr. Hunter in London, and a course of
studies in Edinburgh.
"He first settled as a physician at Nottingham; but meeting with no
success there, he removed in the autumn of 1756, his twenty-fifth year,
to Lichfield, where he was more fortunate; for a few weeks after his
arrival, to use the words of Miss Seward, 'he brilliantly opened his
career of fame.' A young gentleman of family and fortune lay sick of a
dangerous fever. A physician who had for many years possessed the
confidence of Lichfield and the neighbourhood attended, but at length
pronounced the case hopeless, and took his leave. Dr. Darwin was then
called in, and by 'a reverse and entirely novel kind of treatment' the
patient recovered."[137]
Of Dr. Darwin's personal appearance Miss Seward says:--
"He was somewhat above the middle size; his form athletic, and inclined
to corpulence; his limbs were too heavy for exact proportion; the traces
of a severe smallpox disfigured features and a countenance which, when
they were not animated by social pleasure, were rather saturnine than
sprightly; a stoop in the shoulders, and the then professional
appendage--a large full-bottomed wig--gave at that early period of life
an appearance of nearly twice the years he bore. Florid health and the
earnest of good humour, a funny smile on entering a room and on first
accosting his friends, rendered in his youth that exterior agreeable, to
which beauty and symmetry had not been propitious.
"He stammered extremely, but whatever he said, whether gravely or in
jest, was always well worth waiting for, though the inevitable
impression it made might not be always pleasant to individual self-love.
Conscious of great native elevation above the general standard of
intellect, he became early in life sore upon opposition, whether in
argument or conduct, and always resented it by sarcasm of very keen
edge. Nor was he less impatient of the sallies of egotism and vanity,
even when they were in so slight a degree that strict politeness would
rather tolerate than ridicule them. Dr. Darwin seldom failed to present
their caricature in jocose but wounding irony. If these ingredients of
colloquial despotism were discernible in _unworn_ existence, they
increased as it advanced, fed by an ever growing reputation within and
without the pale of medicine."[138]
I imagine that this portrait is somewhat too harshly drawn. Dr. Darwin's
taste for English wines is the worst trait which I have been able to
discover in his character. On this head Miss Seward tells us that "he
despised the prejudice which deems foreign wines more wholesome than the
wines of the country. 'If you must drink wine,' said he, 'let it be
home-made.'" "It is well known," she continues, "that Dr. Darwin's
influence and example have sobered the county of Derby; that
intemperance in fermented fluid of every species is almost unknown among
its gentlemen,"[139] which, if he limited them to cowslip wine, is
hardly to be wondered at.
Dr. Dowson, quoting Miss Edgeworth, says that Dr. Darwin attributed
almost all the diseases of the upper classes to the too great use of
fermented liquors. "This opinion he supported in his writings with the
force of his eloquence and reason; and still more in conversation by all
those powers of wit, satire, and peculiar humour, which never appeared
fully to the public in his works, but which gained him strong
ascendancy in private society.... When he heard that my father was
bilious, he suspected that this must be the consequence of his having,
since his residence in Ireland, and in compliance with the fashion of
the country, indulged too freely in drinking. His letter, I remember,
concluded with, 'Farewell, my dear friend; God keep you from whisky--if
He can.'"[140]
On the other hand, Dr. Darwin seems to have been a very large eater.
"Acid fruits with sugar, and all sorts of creams and butter were his
luxuries; but he always ate plentifully of animal food. This liberal
alimentary regimen he prescribed to people of every age where unvitiated
appetite rendered them capable of following it; even to infants."
Dr. Dowson writes:--
"I have mentioned already that he had in his carriage a receptacle for
paper and pencils, with which he wrote as he travelled, and in one
corner a pile of books; but he had also a receptacle for a knife, fork,
and spoon, and in the other corner a hamper, containing fruit and
sweetmeats, cream and sugar. He provided also for his horses by having a
large pail lashed to his carriage for watering them, as well as hay and
oats to be eaten on the road. Mrs. Schimmelpenninck says that when he
came on a professional visit to her father's house they had, as was the
custom whenever he came, 'a luncheon-table set out with hothouse fruits
and West India sweetmeats, clotted cream, stilton cheese, &c. While the
conversation went on, the dishes in his vicinity were rapidly emptied,
and what,' she adds, 'was my astonishment when, at the end of the three
hours during which the meal had lasted, he expressed his joy at hearing
the dressing bell, and hoped dinner would soon be announced.' This was
not mere gluttony; he thought an abundance, or what most people would
consider a superabundance of food, conducive to health. '_Eat or be
eaten_' is said to have been often his medical advice. He had especially
a very high opinion of the nutritive value of sugar, and said 'that if
ever our improved chemistry should discover the art of making sugar from
fossil or aerial matter without the assistance of vegetation, food for
animals would then become as plentiful as water, and mankind might live
upon the earth as thick as blades of grass, with no restraint to their
numbers but want of room.'--Botanic Garden, vol. i. p. 470."[141]
"Professional generosity," says Miss Seward, "distinguished Dr. Darwin's
practice. Whilst resident in Lichfield he always cheerfully gave to the
priest and lay vicars of its cathedral and their families _his advice_,
but never took fees from any of them. Diligently also did he attend the
health of the poor in that city, and afterwards at Derby, and supplied
their necessities by food, and all sort of charitable assistance. In
each of those towns _his_ was the cheerful board of almost open-housed
hospitality, without extravagance or parade; generosity, wit, and
science were his household gods."[142]
Of his first marriage the following account is given:--
"In 1757 he married Miss Howard, of the Close of Lichfield, a blooming
and lovely young lady of eighteen.... Mrs. Darwin's own mind, by nature
so well endowed, strengthened and expanded in the friendship,
conversation, and confidence of so beloved a preceptor. But alas! upon
her too early youth, and too delicate constitution, the frequency of her
maternal situation, during the first five years of her marriage, had
probably a baneful effect. The potent skill and assiduous cares of _him_
before whom disease daily vanished from the frame of _others_, could not
expel it radically from that of her he loved. It was, however, kept at
bay during thirteen years.
"Upon the distinguished happiness of those years she spoke with fervour
to two intimate female friends in the last week of her existence, which
closed at the latter end of the summer 1770. 'Do not weep for my
impending fate,' said the dying angel with a smile of unaffected
cheerfulness. 'In the short term of my life a great deal of happiness
has been comprised. The maladies of my frame were peculiar; those of my
head and stomach which no medicine could eradicate, were spasmodic and
violent; and required stronger measures to render them supportable while
they lasted than my constitution could sustain without injury. The
periods of exemption from those pains were frequently of several days'
duration, and in my intermissions I felt no indications of malady. Pain
taught me the value of ease, and I enjoyed it with a glow of spirit,
seldom, perhaps, felt by the habitually healthy. While Dr. Darwin
combated and assuaged my disease from time to time, his indulgence to
all my wishes, his active desire to see me amused and happy, proved
incessant. His house, as you know, has ever been the resort of people of
science and merit. If, from my husband's great and extensive practice, I
had much less of his society than I wished, yet the conversation of his
friends, and of my own, was ever ready to enliven the hours of his
absence. As occasional malady made me doubly enjoy health, so did those
frequent absences give a zest even to delight, when I could be indulged
with his company. My three boys have ever been docile and affectionate.
Children as they are, I could trust them with important secrets, so
sacred do they hold every promise they make. They scorn deceit and
falsehood of every kind, and have less selfishness than generally
belongs to childhood. Married to any other man, I do not suppose I could
have lived a third part of the years which I have passed with Dr.
Darwin; he has prolonged my days, and he has blessed them.'
"Thus died this superior woman, in the bloom of life, sincerely
regretted by all who knew how to value her excellence, and
_passionately_ regretted by the selected few whom she honoured with her
personal and confidential friendship."[143]
I find Miss Seward's pages so fascinating, that I am in danger of
following her even in those parts of her work which have no bearing on
Dr. Darwin. I must, however, pass over her account of Mr. Edgeworth and
of his friend Mr. Day, the author of 'Sandford and Merton,' "which, by
wise parents, is put into every youthful hand," but the description of
Mr. Day's portrait cannot be omitted.
"In the course of the year 1770, Mr. Day stood for a full-length picture
to Mr. Wright, of Derby. A strong likeness and a dignified portrait were
the result. Drawn in the open air, the surrounding sky is tempestuous,
lurid, dark. He stands leaning his left arm against a column inscribed
to Hambden (_sic_). Mr. Day looks upwards, as enthusiastically
meditating on the contents of a book held in his dropped right hand. The
open leaf is the oration of that virtuous patriot in the senate, against
the grant of ship money, demanded by King Charles I. A flash of
lightning plays in Mr. Day's hair, and illuminates the contents of the
volume. The poetic fancy and what were _then_ the politics of the
original, appear in the choice of subject and attitude. Dr. Darwin sat
to Mr. Wright about the same period. _That_ was a simply contemplative
portrait, of the most perfect resemblance."[144]
. . . . . .
"In the year 1768, Dr. Darwin met with an accident of irretrievable
injury to the human frame. His propensity to mechanics had unfortunately
led him to construct a very singular carriage. It was a platform with a
seat fixed upon a very high pair of wheels, and supported in the front
upon the back of the horse, by means of a kind of proboscis which,
forming an arch, reached over the hind-quarters of the horse, and passed
through a ring, placed on an upright piece of iron, which worked in a
socket fixed in the saddle. The horse could thus move from one side of
the road to the other, quartering, as it is called, at the will of the
driver, whose constant attention was necessarily employed to regulate a
piece of machinery contrived, but _not well_ contrived, for that
purpose."
I cannot help the reader to understand the foregoing description. "From
this whimsical carriage, however, the doctor was several times thrown,
and the last time he used it had the misfortune, from a similar
accident, to break the patella of his right knee, which caused, as it
must always cause, an incurable weakness in the fractured part, and a
lameness not very discernible, indeed, when walking on even
ground."[145]
Miss Seward presently tells a story which reads as though it might have
been told by Plutarch of some Greek or Roman sage. Much as we must
approve of Dr. Darwin's habitual sobriety, we shall most of us be agreed
that a few more such stories would have been cheaply purchased by a
corresponding number of lapses on the doctor's part.
Miss Seward writes:--
"Since these memoirs commenced, an odd anecdote of Dr. Darwin's early
residence at Lichfield, was narrated to a friend of the author by a
gentleman, who was of the party in which it happened. Mr. Sneyd, then of
Bishton, and a few more gentlemen of Staffordshire, prevailed upon the
doctor to join them in an expedition by water from Burton to Nottingham,
and on to Newark. They had cold provisions on board, and plenty of wine.
It was midsummer; the day ardent and sultry. The noon-tide meal had
been made, and the glass had gone gaily round. It was one of those _few_
instances in which the medical votary of the Naiads transgressed his
general and strict sobriety," in which, in fact, he may be said to
have--remembered himself.
"If not absolutely intoxicated, his spirits were in a high state of
vinous exhilaration. On the boat approaching Nottingham, within the
distance of a few fields, he surprised his companions by stepping,
without any previous notice, from the boat into the middle of the river,
and swimming to shore. They saw him get upon the bank, and walk coolly
over the meadows towards the town: they called to him in vain, but he
did not once turn his head.
"Anxious lest he should take a dangerous cold by remaining in his wet
clothes, and uncertain whether or not he intended to desert the party,
they rowed instantly to the town at which they had not designed to have
touched, and went in search of their river-god.
"In passing through the market-place they saw him standing upon a tub,
encircled by a crowd of people, and resisting the entreaties of an
apothecary of the place, one of his old acquaintances, who was
importuning him to his house, and to accept other raiments till his own
could be dried.
"The party on pressing through the crowd were surprised to hear him
speaking without any degree of his usual stammer:--'Have I not told you,
my friend, that I had drank a considerable quantity of wine before I
committed myself to the river. You know my general sobriety, and as a
professional man you _ought_ to know that the _unusual_ existence of
internal stimulus would, in its effects upon the system, counteract the
_external_ cold and moisture.'"
"Then perceiving his companions near him, he nodded, smiled, and waived
his hand, as enjoining them silence, thus, without hesitation,
addressing the populace:--
"'Ye men of Nottingham, listen to me. You are ingenious and industrious
mechanics. By your industry life's comforts are procured for yourselves
and families. If you lose your health the power of being industrious
will forsake you. _That_ you know, but you may _not_ know that to
breathe fresh and changed air constantly, is not less necessary to
preserve health than sobriety itself. Air becomes unwholesome in a few
hours if the windows are shut. Open those of your sleeping rooms
whenever you quit them to go to your workshops. Keep the windows of your
workshops open whenever the weather is not insupportably cold. I have no
_interest_ in giving you this advice; remember what I, your countryman
and a physician, tell you. If you would not bring infection and disease
upon yourselves, and to your wives and little ones, change the air you
breathe, change it many times a day, by opening your windows.'
"So saying, he stepped down from the tub, and, returning with his party
to their boat, they pursued their voyage."[146]
Could any missionary be more perfectly sober and sensible, or more alive
to the immorality of trying to effect too sudden a modification in the
organisms he was endeavouring to influence? If the men of Nottingham
want a statue in their market-place, I would respectfully suggest that a
subject is here afforded them.
* * * * *
"Dr. Johnson was several times at Lichfield on visits to Mrs. Lucy
Porter, his daughter-in-law, while Dr. Darwin was one of the
inhabitants. They had one or two interviews, but never afterwards sought
each other. Mutual and strong dislike subsisted between them. It is
curious that in Johnson's various letters to Mrs. Thrale, now Mrs.
Piozzi, published by that lady after his death, many of them dated from
Lichfield, the name of Darwin cannot be found, nor, indeed, that of any
of the ingenious and lettered people who lived there; while of its mere
common-life characters there is frequent mention, with many hints of
Lichfield's intellectual barrenness, while it could boast a Darwin and
other men of classical learning, poetic talents, and liberal
information."[147]
Here there follows a pleasant sketch of the principal Lichfield
notabilities, which I am compelled to omit.
"_These_ were the men," exclaims Miss Seward, "whose intellectual
existence passed unnoticed by Dr. Johnson in his depreciating estimate
of Lichfield talents. But Johnson liked only _worshippers_. Archdeacon
Vyse, Mr. Seward, and Mr. Robinson paid all the respect and attention to
Dr. Johnson, on these his visits to their town, due to his great
abilities, his high reputation, and to whatever was estimable in his
_mixed_ character; but they were not in the herd that 'paged his heels,'
and sunk in servile silence under the force of his dogmas, when their
hearts and their judgments bore _contrary_ testimony.
"Certainly, however, it was an arduous hazard to the feelings of the
company to oppose in the slightest degree Dr. Johnson's opinions. His
stentor lungs; that combination of wit, humour, and eloquence, which
'could make the _worse_ appear the _better_ reason,' that sarcastic
contempt of his antagonist, never suppressed or even softened by the due
restraints of good breeding, were sufficient to close the lips in his
presence, of men who could have met him in fair argument, on _any_
ground, literary or political, moral or characteristic.
"Where Dr. Johnson was, Dr. Darwin had no chance of being heard, though
at least his equal in genius, his superior in science; nor, indeed, from
his impeded utterance, in the company of any overbearing declaimer; and
he was too intellectually great to be an humble listener to Johnson.
Therefore he shunned him on having experienced what manner of man he
was. The surly dictator felt the mortification, and revenged it by
_affecting_ to avow his disdain of powers too distinguished to be
objects of _genuine_ scorn.
"Dr. Darwin, in his turn, was not much more just to Dr. Johnson's
genius. He uniformly spoke of him in terms which, had they been
deserved, would have justified Churchill's 'immane Pomposo' as an
appellation of _scorn_; since if his person was huge, and his manners
pompous and violent, so were his talents vast and powerful, in a degree
from which only prejudice and resentment could withhold respect.
"Though Dr. Darwin's hesitation in speaking precluded his flow of
colloquial eloquence, it did not impede, or at all lessen, the force of
that conciser quality, _wit_. Of satiric wit he possessed a very
peculiar species. It was neither the dead-doing broadside of Dr.
Johnson's satire, nor the aurora borealis of Gray ... whose arch yet coy
and quiet fastidiousness of taste and feeling, as recorded by Mason,
glanced bright and cold through his conversation, while it seemed
difficult to define its nature; and while its effects were rather
_perceived_ than _felt_, exciting surprise more than mirth, and never
awakening the pained sense of being the object of its ridicule. That
unique in humorous verse, the Long Story, is a complete and beautiful
specimen of Gray's singular vein.
"Darwinian wit is not more easy to be defined; instances will best
convey an idea of its character to those who never conversed with its
possessor.
"Dr. Darwin was conversing with a brother botanist concerning the plant
kalmia, then a just imported stranger in our greenhouses and gardens. A
lady who was present, concluding he had seen it, which in fact he had
not, asked the doctor what were the colours of the plant. He replied,
'Madam, the kalmia has precisely the colours of a seraph's wing.' So
fancifully did he express his want of consciousness concerning the
appearance of a flower, whose name and rareness were all he knew of the
matter.
"Dr. Darwin had a large company at tea. His servant announced a
stranger, lady and gentleman. The female was a conspicuous figure,
ruddy, corpulent, and tall. She held by the arm a little, meek-looking,
pale, effeminate man, who, from his close adherence to the side of the
lady, seemed to consider himself as under her protection.
"'Dr. Darwin, I seek you not as a physician, but as a _Belle Esprit_. I
make this husband of mine,' and she looked down with a side glance upon
the animal, 'treat me every summer with a tour through one of the
British counties, to explore whatever it contains worth the attention of
ingenious people. On arriving at the several inns in our route I always
search out the man of the vicinity most distinguished for his genius and
taste, and introduce myself, that he may direct as the objects of our
examination, whatever is curious in nature, art, or science. Lichfield
will be our headquarters during several days. Come, doctor, whither must
we go; what must we investigate to-morrow, and the next day, and the
next? Here are my tablets and pencil.'
"'You arrive, madam, at a fortunate juncture. To-morrow you will have an
opportunity of surveying an annual exhibition perfectly worthy your
attention. To-morrow, madam, you will go to Tutbury bull-running.'
"The satiric laugh with which he stammered out the last word more keenly
pointed this sly, yet broad rebuke to the vanity and arrogance of her
speech. She had been up amongst the boughs, and little expected they
would break under her so suddenly, and with so little mercy. Her large
features swelled, and her eyes flashed with anger--'I was recommended to
a man of genius, and I find him insolent and ill-bred.' Then, gathering
up her meek and alarmed husband, whom she had loosed when she first
spoke, under the shadow of her broad arm and shoulder, she strutted out
of the room.
"After the departure of this curious couple, his guests told their host
he had been very unmerciful. 'I chose,' replied he, 'to avenge the cause
of the little man, whose nothingness was so ostentatiously displayed by
his lady-wife. Her vanity has had a smart emetic. If it abates the
symptoms, she will have reason to thank her physician who administered
without hope of a fee.'"[148]
"In the spring of 1778 the children of Colonel and Mrs. Pole of Radburn,
in Derbyshire, had been injured by a dangerous quantity of the cicuta,
injudiciously administered to them in the hooping-cough by a physician
of the neighbourhood. Mrs. Pole brought them to the house of Dr. Darwin
in Lichfield, remaining with them there a few weeks, till by his art the
poison was expelled from their constitutions and their health restored.
"Mrs. Pole was then in the full bloom of her youth and beauty. Agreeable
features; the glow of health; a fine form, tall and graceful; playful
sprightliness of manner; a benevolent heart, and maternal affection, in
all its unwearied cares and touching tenderness, contributed to inspire
Dr. Darwin's admiration, and to secure his esteem."[149]
"In the autumn of this year" (1778) "Mrs. Pole of Radburn was taken ill;
her disorder a violent fever. Dr. Darwin was called in, and never
perhaps since the death of Mrs. Darwin, prescribed with such deep
anxiety. Not being requested to continue in the house during the ensuing
night, which he apprehended might prove critical, he passed the
remaining hours till day-dawn beneath a tree opposite her apartment,
watching the passing and repassing lights in the chamber. During the
period in which a life so passionately valued was in danger, he
paraphrased Petrarch's celebrated sonnet, narrating a dream whose
prophecy was accomplished by the death of Laura. It took place the night
on which the vision arose amid his slumber. Dr. Darwin extended the
thought of that sonnet into the following elegy:--
"Dread dream, that, hovering in the midnight air,
Clasp'd with thy dusky wing my aching head,
While to imagination's startled ear
Toll'd the slow bell, for bright Eliza dead.
"Stretched on her sable bier, the grave beside,
A snow-white shroud her breathless bosom bound,
O'er her wan brow the mimic lace was tied,
And loves and virtues hung their garlands round.
"From those cold lips did softest accents flow?
Round that pale mouth did sweetest dimples play?
On this dull cheek the rose of beauty blow,
And those dim eyes diffuse celestial day?
"Did this cold hand, unasking Want relieve,
Or wake the lyre to every rapturous sound?
How sad for other's woe this breast would heave!
How light this heart for other's transport bound!
"Beats not the bell again?--Heavens, do I wake?
Why heave my sighs, why gush my tears anew?
Unreal forms my trembling doubts mistake,
And frantic sorrow fears the vision true.
"Dreams to Eliza bend thy airy flight,
Go, tell my charmer all my tender fears,
How love's fond woes alarm the silent night,
And steep my pillow in unpitied tears."
Unwilling as I am to extend this memoir, I must give Miss Seward's
criticism on the foregoing.
"The second verse of this charming elegy affords an instance of Dr.
Darwin's too exclusive devotion to distinct picture in poetry; that it
sometimes betrayed him into bringing objects so precisely to the eye as
to lose in such precision their power of striking forcibly on the heart.
The pathos in the second verse is much injured by the words 'mimic
lace,' which allude to the perforated borders on the shroud. The
expression is too minute for the solemnity of the subject. Certainly it
cannot be natural for a shocked and agitated mind to observe, or to
describe with such petty accuracy. Besides, the allusion is not
sufficiently obvious. The reader pauses to consider what the poet means
by 'mimic lace.' Such pauses deaden sensation and break the course of
attention. A friend of the doctor's pleaded greatly that the line might
run thus:--
"On her wan brow the _shadowy crape_ was tied;"
but the alteration was rejected. Inattention to the rules of grammar in
the first verse was also pointed out to him at the same time. The dream
is addressed:
"Dread dream, that clasped my aching head,"
but nothing is said to it, and therefore the sense is left unfinished,
while the elegy proceeds to give a picture of the lifeless beauty. The
same friend suggested a change which would have remedied the defect.
Thus:--
"Dread _was the dream_ that in the midnight air
Clasped with its dusky wing my aching head,
While to" &c., &c.
"Hence not only the grammatic error would have been done away, but the
grating sound produced by the near alliteration of the harsh _dr_ in
'_dr_ead _dr_eam' removed, by placing those words at a greater distance
from each other.
"This alteration was, for the same reason, rejected. The doctor would
not spare the word _hovering_, which he said strengthened the picture;
but surely the image ought not to be elaborately precise, by which a
dream is transformed into an animal with black wings."[150]
Then Mrs. Pole got well, and the doctor wrote more verses and Miss
Seward more criticism. It was not for nothing that Dr. Johnson came down
to Lichfield.
* * * * *
In 1780 Colonel Pole died, and his widow, still young, handsome, witty,
and--for those days--rich, was in no want of suitors.
"Colonel Pole," says Miss Seward, "had numbered twice the years of his
fair wife. His temper was said to have been peevish and suspicious; yet
not beneath those circumstances had her kind and cheerful attentions to
him grown cold or remiss. He left her a jointure of 600_l._ per annum, a
son to inherit his estate, and two female children amply portioned.
"Mrs. Pole, it has already been remarked, had much vivacity and sportive
humour, with very engaging frankness of temper and manners. Early in her
widowhood she was rallied in a large company upon Dr. Darwin's passion
for her, and was asked what she would do with her captive philosopher.
'He is not very fond of churches, I believe,' said she, 'and even if he
would go there for my sake, I shall scarcely follow him. He is too old
for me.' 'Nay, Madam,' was the answer, 'what are fifteen years on the
right side?' She replied, with an arch smile, 'I have had so _much_ of
that right side.'
"This confession was thought inauspicious for the doctor's hopes, but it
did not prove so. The triumph of intellect was complete."[151]
Mrs. Pole had taken a strong dislike to Lichfield, and had made it a
condition of her marriage that Dr. Darwin should not reside there after
he had married her. In 1781, therefore, immediately after his marriage,
he removed to Derby, and continued to live there till a fortnight before
his death.
Here he wrote 'The Botanic Garden' and a great part of the 'Zoonomia.'
Those who wish for a detailed analysis of 'The Botanic Garden' can
hardly do better than turn to Miss Seward's pages. Opening them at
random, I find the following:--
"The mention of Brindley, the father of commercial canals, has propriety
as well as happiness. Similitude for their course to the sinuous track
of a serpent, produces a fine picture of a gliding animal of that
species, and it is succeeded by these supremely happy lines:--
"'So with strong arms immortal Brindley leads
His long canals, and parts the velvet meads;
Winding in lucid lines, the watery mass
Mines the firm rock, or loads the deep morass;'[152]
&c. &c. &c.
. . . . . .
"The mechanism of the pump is next described with curious ingenuity.
Common as is the machine, it is not unworthy a place in this splendid
composition, as being, after the sinking of wells, the earliest of those
inventions, which in situations of exterior aridness gave ready
accession to water. This familiar object is illustrated by a picture of
Maternal Beauty administering sustenance to her infant."[153]
Here we will leave the poetical part of the 'Botanic Garden.' The notes,
however, to which are "still," as Dr. Dowson says, "instructive and
amusing," and contain matter which, at the time they were written, was
for the most part new.
Of the 'Zoonomia' there is no occasion to speak here, as a sufficient
number of extracts from those parts that concern us as bearing upon
evolution will be given presently.
On the 18th of April, 1802, Dr. Darwin had written "one page of a very
sprightly letter to Mr. Edgeworth, describing the Priory and his
purposed alterations there, when the fatal signal was given. He rang the
bell and ordered the servant to send Mrs. Darwin to him. She came
immediately, with his daughter, Miss Emma Darwin. They saw him shivering
and pale. He desired them to send to Derby for his surgeon, Mr. Hadley.
They did so, but all was over before he could arrive.
"It was reported at Lichfield that, perceiving himself growing rapidly
worse, he said to Mrs. Darwin, 'My dear, you must bleed me instantly.'
'Alas! I dare not, lest--' 'Emma, will you? There is no time to be
lost.' 'Yes, my dear father, if you will direct me.' At that moment he
sank into his chair and expired."[154]
Dr. Dowson gives the letter to Mr. Edgeworth, which is as follows:--
"Dear Edgeworth,
"I am glad to find that you still amuse yourself with mechanism, in
spite of the troubles of Ireland.
"The _use_ of turning aside or downwards the claw of a table, I
don't see; as it must then be reared against a wall, for it will
not stand alone. If the use be for carriage, the feet may shut up,
like the usual brass feet of a reflecting telescope.
"We have all been now removed from Derby about a fortnight, to the
Priory, and all of us like our change of situation. We have a
pleasant house, a good garden, ponds full of fish, and a pleasing
valley, somewhat like Shenstone's--deep, umbrageous, and with a
talkative stream running down it. Our house is near the top of the
valley, well screened by hills from the east and north, and open to
the south, where at four miles distance we see Derby tower.
"Four or more strong springs rise near the house, and have formed
the valley which, like that of Petrarch, may be called Val Chiusa,
as it begins, or is shut at the situation of the house. I hope you
like the description, and hope farther that yourself and any part
of your family will sometimes do us the pleasure of a visit.
"Pray tell the authoress" (Miss Maria Edgeworth) "that the
water-nymphs of our valley will be happy to assist her next novel.
"My bookseller, Mr. Johnson, will not begin to print the 'Temple of
Nature' till the price of paper is fixed by Parliament. I suppose
the present duty is paid...."
At these words Dr. Darwin's pen stopped. What followed was written on
the opposite side of the paper by another hand.
FOOTNOTES:
[137] 'Sketch, &c., of Erasmus Darwin,' pp. 3, 4.
[138] Miss Seward's 'Memoirs of Dr. Darwin,' p. 3.
[139] Ibid.
[140] Dr. Dowson's 'Sketch of Dr. Erasmus Darwin,' p. 50.
[141] Dr. Dowson's 'Sketch of Dr. Darwin,' p. 53.
[142] Miss Seward's 'Memoirs,' &c., p. 6.
[143] 'Memoirs,' &c., p. 14.
[144] 'Memoirs,' &c., p. 21.
[145] 'Memoirs,' &c., p. 62.
[146] 'Memoirs,' &c., p. 68.
[147] Miss Seward's 'Memoirs,' p. 69.
[148] 'Memoirs,' &c., p. 84.
[149] Ibid., p. 105.
[150] 'Memoirs,' &c., p. 120.
[151] 'Memoirs,' &c., p. 149.
[152] 'Memoirs,' &c., p. 249.
[153] 'Memoirs,' &c., p. 250.
[154] 'Memoirs,' &c., p. 426.