appeared for the medical profession, Darwin's father proposed to him
that he should become a clergyman, for it was out of the question that
the young student should be allowed to turn into an idle sporting
man, as he bade fair to do. After some time given to reflection on
this momentous change in his career, Darwin, who 'did not then in the
least doubt the strict and literal truth of every word in the Bible,'
agreed to the proposal. Many years afterwards, when he had risen to
fame, and his photograph was the subject of public discussion at a
German psychological society, he was declared by one of the speakers
to have 'the bump of reverence developed enough for ten priests.' So
that in one respect, as he says of himself, he was well fitted to be
a clergyman. In another and more serious qualification, however, he
found himself lamentably and almost incredibly deficient. If his two
years at Edinburgh had not added much to his stock of professional
knowledge, they seem to have driven out of his head what slender share
of classical learning he had imbibed at Shrewsbury. He had actually
forgotten some of the Greek letters, and had to begin again, therefore,
at the very beginning. But after a few months of preliminary training
he found himself able to proceed to Cambridge in the early part of the
year 1828, when he was now nearly nineteen years of age. So far as
concerned academical studies, the three years at the University were,
in his own opinion, as much wasted time as his residence at Edinburgh
or his life at school had been. He attempted mathematics, which he
found repugnant. In classics he did as little as he could; but in the
end he took his B.A. degree, and got the tenth place on the list of
those who did not go in for honours. The disgust for geology with which
the Wernerian doctrines at Edinburgh had inspired him, prevented him
from becoming a pupil of Sedgwick. It is curious to speculate on what
might have been his ultimate bent had he then come under the spell of
that eloquent, enthusiastic, and most lovable man. Not improbably he
would have become an ardent geologist, dedicating more exclusively to
that science the genius and industry which he devoted to biology and to
natural history as a whole.
Some of the incidents of his Cambridge life which he records are full
of interest in their bearing on his future career. Foremost among them
stands the friendship which he formed with Professor Henslow, whose
lectures on botany he attended. He joined in the class excursions,
and found them delightful. But still more profitable to him were the
long and almost daily walks which he enjoyed with his teacher during
the latter half of his time at Cambridge. Henslow's wide range of
acquirement, his modesty, unselfishness, courtesy, gentleness and
piety, fascinated Darwin and exerted on him an influence which, more
than anything else, tended to shape his whole future life. The love
of travel, which had been kindled by his boyish reading, now took a
deeper hold of him as he read Humboldt's _Personal Narrative_, and
Herschel's _Introduction to the Study of Natural Philosophy_. He
determined to visit Teneriffe, and even went so far as to inquire about
ships. But his desire was soon to be gratified in a far other and more
comprehensive voyage. At the close of his college life he was fortunate
enough, through Henslow's good offices, to accompany Sedgwick in a
geological excursion in North Wales. There can be little doubt that
this short trip sufficed to efface the dislike of geology which he
had conceived at Edinburgh, and to show him how much it was in his
own power to increase the sum of geological knowledge. To use his own
phrase, he began to 'work like a tiger' at geology.
But he now had reached the main turning-point of his career. On
returning home from his ramble with Sedgwick he found a letter from
Henslow, telling him that Captain Fitz-Roy, who was about to start on
the memorable voyage of the _Beagle_, was willing to give up part of
his own cabin to any competent young man who would volunteer to go with
him without pay as a naturalist. The post was offered to Darwin, and
after some natural objections on the part of his father, who thought
that such a wild scheme would be disreputable to his character as a
future clergyman, was accepted. His intention of becoming a clergyman,
and his father's wish that he should do so, were never formally given
up; but from this time onward they dropped out of sight. The _Beagle_
weighed anchor from Plymouth on the 27th of December, 1831, and
returned on the 2nd of October, 1836.
Of the voyage in the _Beagle_ and its scientific fruits Darwin himself
has left ample record in his _Journal of Researches_, and in the
various memoirs on special branches of research which he afterwards
published. The editor of the Biography has wisely refrained from
repeating the story of this important part of his father's life.
But he has given a new charm to it by printing a few of the letters
written during the voyage, which help us to realise still more vividly
the life and work of the naturalist in his circumnavigation of the
world. We can picture him in his little cabin, working diligently at
the structure of marine creatures, but driven every now and then to
lie down as a relief from sea-sickness, which worried him during the
voyage and which was thought by some to have permanently injured his
health. We see him littering the deck with his specimens, and thereby
raising the indignation of the prim first lieutenant, who declared he
would like to turn the naturalist and his mess 'out of the place,' but
who, in spite of this want of sympathy, was recognised by Darwin as a
'glorious fellow.' We watch him in the tropical forests and in the calm
glories of the tropical nights with the young officers listening to
his exposition of the wonders of Nature around them. And, above all,
we mark his exuberant enthusiasm in the new aspects of the world that
came before him, his gentleness, unfailing good-nature and courtesy,
that endeared him alike to every officer and sailor in the ship. The
officers playfully dubbed him their 'dear old philosopher,' and the men
called him 'our flycatcher.'
For one who was to take a foremost place among the naturalists of
all time--that is, in the true old sense of the word naturalist, men
with sympathies and insight for every department of Nature, and not
mere specialists working laboriously in their own limited field of
research--there could hardly have been chosen a more instructive and
stimulating journey than that which was provided for Darwin by the
voyage of the _Beagle_. The route lay by the Cape de Verd Islands
across the Atlantic to the coast of Brazil, southward to the Strait
of Magellan, and up the western side of the South American continent
as far as Callao. It then struck westward across the Pacific Ocean by
the Galapagos archipelago, Taheiti, New Zealand, Sydney and Tasmania,
turning round into the Indian Ocean by way of Keeling Islands and
the Mauritius to the Cape of Good Hope, and then by St. Helena and
Ascension Island to the coast of Brazil, where the chronometrical
measurement of the world, which was the ostensible object of the
_Beagle's_ circumnavigation, was to be completed, and so once more
across the Atlantic homewards. Almost every aspect of Nature was
encountered in such a journey. The luxuriant forests of the tropics,
the glaciers and snowfields of Tierra del Fuego, the arid wastes of
Patagonia, the green and fertile Pampas, the volcanic and coral islets
of mid-ocean, the lofty Cordillera of a great continent, arose one by
one before the eager gaze of the young observer. Each scene widened
his experience of the outer aspects of the world, quickened his powers
of observation, deepened his sympathy with Nature as a whole, and
likewise supplied him with abundant materials for future study in the
life-work which he had now definitely set before himself. We must think
of him during those five momentous years as patiently accumulating the
facts and shaping in his mind the problems which were to furnish the
occupation of all his after life.
During the voyage he had written long letters to his friends
descriptive of what he had seen and done. He likewise forwarded
considerable collections of specimens gathered by him at various
places. His scientific activity was therefore well known at home to his
acquaintances, and even to a wider circle, for some of his letters to
Henslow were privately printed and circulated among the members of the
Cambridge Philosophical Society. It would have been difficult for any
even of his most intimate friends to offer a plausible conjecture as to
the line of inquiry in natural science that he would ultimately select
as the one along which he more particularly desired to advance. An
onlooker might have naturally believed that the ardent young observer
would choose geology, and end by becoming one of the foremost leaders
in that department of science. In his _Journal of Researches_, and
in the letters from the _Beagle_ now published, it is remarkable how
much he shows the fascination that geology exercised upon him. He had
thoroughly thrown off the incubus of Wernerianism. From Lyell's book
and Sedgwick's personal influence he had discovered how absorbingly
interesting is the history of the earth. Writing to his friend, W. D.
Fox, from Lima, in the summer of 1835, he expresses his pleasure in
hearing that his correspondent had some intention of studying geology;
which, he says, offers 'so much larger a field of thought than the
other branches of natural history'; and, moreover, 'is a capital
science to begin, as it requires nothing but a little reading, thinking
and hammering.' While the whole of his _Journal_ shows on every page
how keen were his powers of observation, and how constantly he was on
the watch for new facts in many fields of natural knowledge, it is to
the geological problems that he returns most frequently and fully. And
never before in the history of science had these problems been attacked
by an actual observer over so vast a space of the earth's surface,
with more acuteness and patience, or discussed with such breadth of
view. There is something almost ludicrous in the contrast between his
method of treatment of volcanic phenomena and that of his professor at
Edinburgh only six short years before. But though geological questions,
being the most obvious and approachable, took up so large a share of
his time and attention, he was already pondering on some of the great
biological mysteries the unveiling of which in later years was to be
his main occupation, and to form the basis on which his renown as an
investigator was chiefly to rest.
On his return to England, in October 1836, Darwin at once took his
place among the acknowledged men of science of his country. For a time
his health continued to be such as to allow him to get through a large
amount of work. The next two years, which in his own opinion were the
most active of his life, were spent, partly at Cambridge and partly
in London, in the preparation of his _Journal of Researches_, of the
zoological and geological results of the voyage, and of various papers
for the Geological and Zoological Societies. So keen was his geological
zeal that, almost against his better judgment, he was prevailed upon to
undertake the duties of honorary secretary of the Geological Society,
an office which he continued to hold for three years. And at each
period of enforced holiday, for his health had already begun to give
way, he occupied himself with geological work in the field. In the
Midlands he watched the operations of earth-worms, and began those
inquiries which formed the subject of his last research, and of the
volume on _Vegetable Mould_ which he published not long before his
death. In the Highlands he studied the famous Parallel Roads of Glen
Roy; and his work there, though in after years he acknowledged it to be
'a great failure,' he felt at the time to have been 'one of the most
difficult and instructive tasks' he had ever undertaken.
In the beginning of 1839 Darwin married his cousin, daughter of Josiah
Wedgwood, and grand-daughter of the founder of the Etruria Works, and
took a house in London. But the entries of ill-health in his diary
grow more frequent. For a time he and his wife went into society, and
took their share of the scientific life and work of the metropolis.
But he was compelled gradually to withdraw from this kind of existence
which suited neither of them, and eventually they determined to live
in the country. Accordingly, he purchased a house and grounds at Down
in a sequestered part of Kent, some twenty miles from London, and
moved thither in the autumn of 1842. In that quiet home he passed the
remaining forty years of his life. It was there that his children were
born and grew up around him, that he carried on the researches and
worked out the generalisations that have changed the whole realm of
science, that he received his friends and the strangers who came from
every country to see him; and it was there that, after a long and
laborious life, full of ardour and work to the last, he died at the age
of seventy-three, on the 19th of April, 1882.
The story of his life at Down is almost wholly coincident with the
history of the development of his views on evolution, and the growth
and appearance of the successive volumes which he gave to the world.
For the first four years his geological tastes continued in the
ascendant. During that interval there appeared three remarkable works,
his volume on _Coral Islands_, that on _Volcanic Islands_, and his
_Geological Observations on South America_. Of these treatises that on
coral reefs excited the wonder and admiration of geologists for the
simplicity and grandeur of its theoretical explanations. Before it was
written, the prevalent view of the origin of these insular masses of
coral was that which regarded each of them as built on the summit of
a volcano, the circular shape of an atoll or ring of coral being held
to mark the outline of the submerged crater on which it rested. But
Darwin, in showing the untenableness of this explanation, pointed out
how easily the rings of coral might have arisen from the upward growth
of the reef-building corals round an island slowly sinking into the
sea. He was thus led to look upon the vast regions of ocean dotted with
coral islands as areas of gradual subsidence, and he could adduce every
stage in the process of growth, from the shore-reef just beginning, as
it were, to form round the island, to the completed atoll, where the
last vestige of the encircled land had disappeared under the central
lagoon. More recent researches by other observers have, in the opinion
of some writers, proved that the widespread submergence demanded by
Darwin's theory is not required to account for the present form and
distribution of coral islands. But his work will ever remain a classic
in the history of geology.
After working up the geological results of the long voyage in the
_Beagle_, he set himself with great determination to more purely
zoological details. While visiting the coast of Chili, he had found a
curious new cirripede, to understand the structure of which he had to
examine and dissect many of the common forms. The memoir, which was
originally designed to describe only his new type, gradually expanded
into an elaborate monograph on the Cirrepedes (barnacles) as a Whole
group. For eight years he continued this self-imposed task, getting
at last so weary of it as to feel at times as if the labour had been
in some sense wasted which he had spent over it, and this suspicion
seems to have remained with him in maturer years. But when at last
the two bulky volumes, of more than one thousand pages of text, with
forty detailed plates, made their appearance, they were hailed as an
admirable contribution to the knowledge of a comparatively little known
department of the animal kingdom. In the interests of science, perhaps,
their chief value is to be recognised not so much in their own high
merit as in the practical training which their preparation gave the
author in anatomical detail and classification. He spoke of it himself
afterwards as a valuable discipline, and Professor Huxley truly affirms
that the influence of this discipline was visible in everything which
he afterwards wrote.
It was after Darwin had got rid of his herculean labours over the
'Cirripede book' that he began to settle down seriously to the great
work of his life--the investigation of the origin of the species of
plants and animals. One of the three volumes of the Biography is
entirely devoted to tracing the growth of his views on this subject,
and the preparation and reception of the great work on the _Origin of
Species_. In no part of his task has the editor shown greater tact
and skill than in this. From the earliest jottings, which show that
the idea had taken hold of Darwin's mind, we are led onwards through
successive journals, letters, and published works, marking as we go
how steadily the idea was pursued, and how it shaped itself more and
more definitely in his mind. It is impossible to condense this story
within the limits of a Review article, and the condensation, even if
possible, would spoil the story, which must be left as told in the
author's own words. Briefly, it may be stated here that he seems to
have been first led to ponder over the question of the transmutation
of species by facts that had come under his notice during the South
American part of the voyage in the _Beagle_--such as the discovery of
the fossil remains of huge animals akin to, but yet very distinct from,
the living armadillos of the same regions; the manner in which closely
allied animals were found to replace one another, as he followed them
over the continent; and the remarkable character of the flora and
fauna of the Galapagos archipelago. 'It was evident,' he says, 'that
such facts as these, as well as many others, could only be explained
on the supposition that species gradually become modified; and the
subject haunted me.' His first note-book for the accumulation of facts
bearing on the question was opened in July 1837, and from that date
he continued to gather them 'on a wholesale scale, more especially
with respect to domesticated productions, by printed inquiries, by
conversation with skilful breeders and gardeners, and by extensive
reading.' He soon perceived that selection was the secret of success
in the artificial production of the useful varieties of plants and
animals. But how this principle, so fertile in results when employed by
man, could be applied in explanation of Nature's operations, remained
a mystery to him until in October 1838, when, happening to read for
amusement Malthus' book _On the Principle of Population_, he found
at last a theory with which to work. With this guiding principle he
instituted a laborious investigation on the breeding of pigeons, and
experiments on the flotation of eggs, the vitality of seeds, and other
questions, the solution of which seemed desirable as his researches
advanced. He says himself that, to avoid prejudice in favour of his own
views, he refrained for some time from writing even the briefest sketch
of the theory he had formed, and that it was not until June, 1842, that
he allowed himself the satisfaction of writing a very brief pencil
abstract in thirty-five pages, which two years afterwards he enlarged
to 230 pages, and had fairly copied out. This precious manuscript was
the germ of the _Origin of Species_.
With characteristic caution, however, he kept his essay in his desk,
and with equally characteristic ardour, industry and patience went on
with the laborious task of accumulating evidence. His friends were of
course well aware of the nature of his research, and of the remarkable
views to which he had been led regarding the history of species. And
as these views could hardly fail in the end to become generally known,
it was desirable that the first publication of them should be made by
himself. This having been urged upon him by Lyell, he began early in
the year 1856 to write out his views in detail on a scale three or four
times as large as that on which the _Origin of Species_ afterwards
appeared. This work he continued steadily for two years, when it was
interrupted (June 1858) by the arrival of a remarkable manuscript
essay by Mr. A. R. Wallace, who, working in the Malay archipelago, had
arrived at conclusions identical with those of Darwin himself. Darwin's
generous impulse was to send this essay for publication irrespective of
any claim of his own to priority: but his friends, Lyell and Sir Joseph
Hooker, persuaded him to allow extracts from his early sketch of 1844,
and part of a letter written to Professor Asa Gray in 1857, to be read,
together with Mr. Wallace's contribution, before the Linnean Society,
and to be printed in the Society's _Journal_. He now set to work upon
that epitome of his observations and deductions which appeared in
November 1859, as the immortal _Origin of Species_.
Those who are old enough to remember the publication of this work,
cannot but marvel at the change which, since that day, not yet thirty
years ago, has come alike upon the non-scientific and the scientific
part of the community in their estimation of it. Professor Huxley has
furnished to the Biography a graphic chapter on the reception of the
book, and in his vigorous and witty style recalls the furious and
fatuous objections that were urged against it. A much longer chapter
will be required to describe the change which the advent of the _Origin
of Species_ has wrought in every department of science, and not of
science only, but of philosophy. The principle of evolution, so early
broached and so long discredited, has now at last been proclaimed and
accepted as the guiding idea in the investigation of Nature.
One of the most marvellous aspects of Darwin's work was the way in
which he seemed always to throw a new light upon every department of
inquiry into which the course of his researches led him to look. The
specialists who, in their own narrow domains, had been toiling for
years, patiently gathering facts and timidly drawing inferences from
them, were astonished to find that one who, to their eyes, was a kind
of outsider, could point out to them the plain meaning of things which,
though entirely familiar to them, they had never adequately understood.
The central idea of the _Origin of Species_ is an example of this
in the biological sciences. The chapter on the imperfection of the
geological record is another in the domain of geology.
After the publication of the _Origin_, Darwin gave to the world during
a succession of years a series of volumes, in which some of his
observations and conclusions were worked out in fuller detail. His
books on the fertilisation of orchids, on the movements and habits
of climbing plants, on the variation of animals and plants under
domestication, on the effects of cross and self-fertilisation in
the vegetable kingdom, on the different forms of flowers in plants
of the same species, were mainly based on his own quiet work in the
greenhouse and garden at Down. His volumes on the descent of man, and
on the expression of the emotions in man and animals, completed his
contributions to the biological argument. His last volume, published
the year before his death, treated of the formation of vegetable mould,
and the habits of earth-worms, and the preparation of it enabled him to
renew some of the observations which had interested him in his younger
days, and to revive some of the geological enthusiasm which so marked
the earlier years of his life.