THE VOYAGE.
"There is a natural good-humoured energy in his letters just like
himself."--From a letter of Dr. R. W. Darwin's to Professor
Henslow.
The object of the _Beagle_ voyage is briefly described in my father's
_Journal of Researches_, p. 1, as being "to complete the Survey of
Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego, commenced under Captain King in 1826 to
1830; to survey the shores of Chile, Peru, and some islands in the
Pacific; and to carry a chain of chronometrical measurements round the
world."
The _Beagle_ is described[89] as a well-built little vessel, of 235
tons, rigged as a barque, and carrying six guns. She belonged to the old
class of ten-gun brigs, which were nicknamed "coffins," from their
liability to go down in severe weather. They were very "deep-waisted,"
that is, their bulwarks were high in proportion to their size, so that a
heavy sea breaking over them might be highly dangerous. Nevertheless,
she had already lived through five years' work, in the most stormy
regions in the world, under Commanders Stokes and Fitz-Roy without a
serious accident. When re-commissioned in 1831 for her second voyage,
she was found (as I learned from the late Admiral Sir James Sulivan) to
be so rotten that she had practically to be rebuilt, and it was this
that caused the long delay in refitting.
She was fitted out for the expedition with all possible care: to quote
my father's description, written from Devonport, November 17, 1831:
"Everybody, who can judge, says it is one of the grandest voyages that
has almost ever been sent out. Everything is on a grand scale.... In
short, everything is as prosperous as human means can make it." The
twenty-four chronometers and the mahogany fittings seem to have been
especially admired, and are more than once alluded to.
Owing to the smallness of the vessel, every one on board was cramped for
room, and my father's accommodation seems to have been narrow enough.
Yet of this confined space he wrote enthusiastically, September 17,
1831:--"When I wrote last, I was in great alarm about my cabin. The
cabins were not then marked out, but when I left they were, and mine is
a capital one, certainly next best to the Captain's and remarkably
light. My companion most luckily, I think, will turn out to be the
officer whom I shall like best. Captain Fitz-Roy says he will take care
that one corner is so fitted up that I shall be comfortable in it and
shall consider it my home, but that also I shall have the run of his. My
cabin is the drawing one; and in the middle is a large table, on which
we two sleep in hammocks. But for the first two months there will be no
drawing to be done, so that it will be quite a luxurious room, and a
good deal larger than the Captain's cabin."
My father used to say that it was the absolute necessity of tidiness in
the cramped space on the _Beagle_ that helped "to give him his
methodical habits of working." On the _Beagle_, too, he would say, that
he learned what he considered the golden rule for saving time; _i.e._,
taking care of the minutes.
In a letter to his sister (July 1832), he writes contentedly of his
manner of life at sea:--"I do not think I have ever given you an account
of how the day passes. We breakfast at eight o'clock. The invariable
maxim is to throw away all politeness--that is, never to wait for each
other, and bolt off the minute one has done eating, &c. At sea, when the
weather is calm, I work at marine animals, with which the whole ocean
abounds. If there is any sea up I am either sick or contrive to read
some voyage or travels. At one we dine. You shore-going people are
lamentably mistaken about the manner of living on board. We have never
yet (nor shall we) dined off salt meat. Rice and peas and _calavanses_
are excellent vegetables, and, with good bread, who could want more?
Judge Alderson could not be more temperate, as nothing but water comes
on the table. At five we have tea."
The crew of the _Beagle_ consisted of Captain Fitz-Roy, "Commander and
Surveyor," two lieutenants, one of whom (the first lieutenant) was the
late Captain Wickham, Governor of Queensland; the late Admiral Sir James
Sulivan, K.C.B., was the second lieutenant. Besides the master and two
mates, there was an assistant-surveyor, the late Admiral Lort Stokes.
There were also a surgeon, assistant-surgeon, two midshipmen, master's
mate, a volunteer (1st class), purser, carpenter, clerk, boatswain,
eight marines, thirty-four seamen, and six boys.
There are not now (1892) many survivors of my father's old ship-mates.
Admiral Mellersh, and Mr. Philip King, of the Legislative Council of
Sydney, are among the number. Admiral Johnson died almost at the same
time as my father.
My father retained to the last a most pleasant recollection of the
voyage of the _Beagle_, and of the friends he made on board her. To his
children their names were familiar, from his many stories of the voyage,
and we caught his feeling of friendship for many who were to us nothing
more than names.
It is pleasant to know how affectionately his old companions remember
him.
Sir James Sulivan remained, throughout my father's lifetime, one of his
best and truest friends. He writes:--"I can confidently express my
belief that during the five years in the _Beagle_, he was never known to
be out of temper, or to say one unkind or hasty word _of_ or _to_ any
one. You will therefore readily understand how this, combined with the
admiration of his energy and ability, led to our giving him the name of
'the dear old Philosopher.'"[90] Admiral Mellersh writes to me:--"Your
father is as vividly in my mind's eye as if it was only a week ago that
I was in the _Beagle_ with him; his genial smile and conversation can
never be forgotten by any who saw them and heard them. I was sent on two
or three occasions away in a boat with him on some of his scientific
excursions, and always looked forward to these trips with great
pleasure, an anticipation that, unlike many others, was always realised.
I think he was the only man I ever knew against whom I never heard a
word said; and as people when shut up in a ship for five years are apt
to get cross with each other, that is saying a good deal."
Admiral Stokes, Mr. King, Mr. Usborne, and Mr. Hamond, all speak of
their friendship with him in the same warm-hearted way.
Captain Fitz-Roy was a strict officer, and made himself thoroughly
respected both by officers and men. The occasional severity of his
manner was borne with because every one on board knew that his first
thought was his duty, and that he would sacrifice anything to the real
welfare of the ship. My father writes, July 1834: "We all jog on very
well together, there is no quarrelling on board, which is something to
say. The Captain keeps all smooth by rowing every one in turn."
My father speaks of the officers as a fine determined set of men, and
especially of Wickham, the first lieutenant, as a "glorious fellow." The
latter being responsible for the smartness and appearance of the ship
strongly objected to Darwin littering the decks, and spoke of specimens
as "d----d beastly devilment," and used to add, "If I were skipper, I
would soon have you and all your d----d mess out of the place."
A sort of halo of sanctity was given to my father by the fact of his
dining in the Captain's cabin, so that the midshipmen used at first to
call him "Sir," a formality, however, which did not prevent his becoming
fast friends with the younger officers. He wrote about the year 1861 or
1862 to Mr. P. G. King, M.L.C., Sydney, who, as before stated, was a
midshipman on board the _Beagle_:--"The remembrance of old days, when we
used to sit and talk on the booms of the _Beagle_, will always, to the
day of my death, make me glad to hear of your happiness and prosperity."
Mr. King describes the pleasure my father seemed to take "in pointing
out to me as a youngster the delights of the tropical nights, with their
balmy breezes eddying out of the sails above us, and the sea lighted up
by the passage of the ship through the never-ending streams of
phosphorescent animalculae."
It has been assumed that his ill-health in later years was due to his
having suffered so much from sea-sickness. This he did not himself
believe, but rather ascribed his bad health to the hereditary fault
which took shape as gout in some of the past generations. I am not quite
clear as to how much he actually suffered from sea-sickness; my
impression is distinct that, according to his own memory, he was not
actually ill after the first three weeks, but constantly uncomfortable
when the vessel pitched at all heavily. But, judging from his letters,
and from the evidence of some of the officers, it would seem that in
later years he forgot the extent of the discomfort. Writing June 3,
1836, from the Cape of Good Hope, he says: "It is a lucky thing for me
that the voyage is drawing to its close, for I positively suffer more
from sea-sickness now than three years ago."
_C. D. to R. W. Darwin._ Bahia, or San Salvador, Brazil. [February 8,
1832.]
I find after the first page I have been writing to my sisters.
MY DEAR FATHER--I am writing this on the 8th of February, one day's sail
past St. Jago (Cape de Verd), and intend taking the chance of meeting
with a homeward-bound vessel somewhere about the equator. The date,
however, will tell this whenever the opportunity occurs. I will now
begin from the day of leaving England, and give a short account of our
progress. We sailed, as you know, on the 27th of December, and have been
fortunate enough to have had from that time to the present a fair and
moderate breeze. It afterwards proved that we had escaped a heavy gale
in the Channel, another at Madeira, and another on [the] Coast of
Africa. But in escaping the gale, we felt its consequence--a heavy sea.
In the Bay of Biscay there was a long and continuous swell, and the
misery I endured from sea-sickness is far beyond what I ever guessed at.
I believe you are curious about it. I will give you all my dear-bought
experience. Nobody who has only been to sea for twenty-four hours has a
right to say that sea-sickness is even uncomfortable. The real misery
only begins when you are so exhausted that a little exertion makes a
feeling of faintness come on. I found nothing but lying in my hammock
did me any good. I must especially except your receipt of raisins, which
is the only food that the stomach will bear.
On the 4th of January we were not many miles from Madeira, but as there
was a heavy sea running, and the island lay to windward, it was not
thought worth while to beat up to it. It afterwards has turned out it
was lucky we saved ourselves the trouble. I was much too sick even to
get up to see the distant outline. On the 6th, in the evening, we sailed
into the harbour of Santa Cruz. I now first felt even moderately well,
and I was picturing to myself all the delights of fresh fruit growing in
beautiful valleys, and reading Humboldt's description of the island's
glorious views, when perhaps you may nearly guess at our disappointment,
when a small pale man informed us we must perform a strict quarantine of
twelve days. There was a death-like stillness in the ship till the
Captain cried "up jib," and we left this long wished-for place.
We were becalmed for a day between Teneriffe and the Grand Canary, and
here I first experienced any enjoyment. The view was glorious. The Peak
of Teneriffe was seen amongst the clouds like another world. Our only
drawback was the extreme wish of visiting this glorious island. From
Teneriffe to St. Jago the voyage was extremely pleasant. I had a net
astern the vessel which caught great numbers of curious animals, and
fully occupied my time in my cabin, and on deck the weather was so
delightful and clear, that the sky and water together made a picture. On
the 16th we arrived at Port Praya, the capital of the Cape de Verds, and
there we remained twenty-three days, viz. till yesterday, the 7th of
February. The time has flown away most delightfully, indeed nothing can
be pleasanter; exceedingly busy, and that business both a duty and a
great delight. I do not believe I have spent one half-hour idly since
leaving Teneriffe. St. Jago has afforded me an exceedingly rich harvest
in several branches of Natural History. I find the descriptions scarcely
worth anything of many of the commoner animals that inhabit the Tropics.
I allude, of course, to those of the lower classes.
Geologising in a volcanic country is most delightful; besides the
interest attached to itself, it leads you into most beautiful and
retired spots. Nobody but a person fond of Natural History can imagine
the pleasure of strolling under cocoa-nuts in a thicket of bananas and
coffee-plants, and an endless number of wild flowers. And this island,
that has given me so much instruction and delight, is reckoned the most
uninteresting place that we perhaps shall touch at during our voyage. It
certainly is generally very barren, but the valleys are more exquisitely
beautiful, from the very contrast. It is utterly useless to say anything
about the scenery; it would be as profitable to explain to a blind man
colours, as to a person who has not been out of Europe, the total
dissimilarity of a tropical view. Whenever I enjoy anything, I always
either look forward to writing it down, either in my log-book (which
increases in bulk), or in a letter; so you must excuse raptures, and
those raptures badly expressed. I find my collections are increasing
wonderfully, and from Rio I think I shall be obliged to send a cargo
home.
All the endless delays which we experienced at Plymouth have been most
fortunate, as I verily believe no person ever went out better provided
for collecting and observing in the different branches of Natural
History. In a multitude of counsellors I certainly found good. I find to
my great surprise that a ship is singularly comfortable for all sorts of
work. Everything is so close at hand, and being cramped makes one so
methodical, that in the end I have been a gainer. I already have got to
look at going to sea as a regular quiet place, like going back to home
after staying away from it. In short, I find a ship a very comfortable
house, with everything you want, and if it was not for sea-sickness the
whole world would be sailors. I do not think there is much danger of
Erasmus setting the example, but in case there should be, he may rely
upon it he does not know one-tenth of the sufferings of sea-sickness.
I like the officers much more than I did at first, especially Wickham,
and young King and Stokes, and indeed all of them. The Captain continues
steadily very kind, and does everything in his power to assist me. We
see very little of each other when in harbour, our pursuits lead us in
such different tracks. I never in my life met with a man who could
endure nearly so great a share of fatigue. He works incessantly, and
when apparently not employed, he is thinking. If he does not kill
himself, he will during this voyage do a wonderful quantity of work....
_February 26th._--About 280 miles from Bahia. We have been singularly
unlucky in not meeting with any homeward-bound vessels, but I suppose
[at] Bahia we certainly shall be able to write to England. Since writing
the first part of [this] letter nothing has occurred except crossing the
Equator, and being shaved. This most disagreeable operation, consists in
having your face rubbed with paint and tar, which forms a lather for a
saw which represents the razor, and then being half drowned in a sail
filled with salt water. About 50 miles north of the line we touched at
the rocks of St. Paul; this little speck (about 1/4 of a mile across) in
the Atlantic has seldom been visited. It is totally barren, but is
covered by hosts of birds; they were so unused to men that we found we
could kill plenty with stones and sticks. After remaining some hours on
the island, we returned on board with the boat loaded with our prey.[91]
From this we went to Fernando Noronha, a small island where the
[Brazilians] send their exiles. The landing there was attended with so
much difficulty owing [to] a heavy surf that the Captain determined to
sail the next day after arriving. My one day on shore was exceedingly
interesting, the whole island is one single wood so matted together by
creepers that it is very difficult to move out of the beaten path. I
find the Natural History of all these unfrequented spots most
exceedingly interesting, especially the geology. I have written this
much in order to save time at Bahia.
Decidedly the most striking thing in the Tropics is the novelty of the
vegetable forms. Cocoa-nuts could well be imagined from drawings, if you
add to them a graceful lightness which no European tree partakes of.
Bananas and plantains are exactly the same as those in hothouses, the
acacias or tamarinds are striking from the blueness of their foliage;
but of the glorious orange trees, no description, no drawings, will give
any just idea; instead of the sickly green of our oranges, the native
ones exceed the Portugal laurel in the darkness of their tint, and
infinitely exceed it in beauty of form. Cocoa-nuts, papaws, the
light-green bananas, and oranges, loaded with fruit, generally surround
the more luxuriant villages. Whilst viewing such scenes, one feels the
impossibility that any description should come near the mark, much less
be over-drawn.
_March 1st._--Bahia, or San Salvador. I arrived at this place on the
28th of February, and am now writing this letter after having in real
earnest strolled in the forests of the new world. No person could
imagine anything so beautiful as the ancient town of Bahia, it is fairly
embosomed in a luxuriant wood of beautiful trees, and situated on a
steep bank, and overlooks the calm waters of the great bay of All
Saints. The houses are white and lofty, and, from the windows being
narrow and long, have a very light and elegant appearance. Convents,
porticos, and public buildings, vary the uniformity of the houses; the
bay is scattered over with large ships; in short, and what can be said
more, it is one of the finest views in the Brazils. But the exquisite
glorious pleasure of walking amongst such flowers, and such trees,
cannot be comprehended but by those who have experienced it.[92]
Although in so low a latitude the locality is not disagreeably hot, but
at present it is very damp, for it is the rainy season. I find the
climate as yet agrees admirably with me; it makes me long to live
quietly for some time in such a country. If you really want to have [an
idea] of tropical countries, study Humboldt. Skip the scientific parts,
and commence after leaving Teneriffe. My feelings amount to admiration
the more I read him....
This letter will go on the 5th, and I am afraid will be some time before
it reaches you; it must be a warning how in other parts of the world you
may be a long time without hearing. A year might by accident thus pass.
About the 12th we start for Rio, but we remain some time on the way in
sounding the Albrolhos shoals....
We have beat all the ships in manoeuvring, so much so that the
commanding officer says we need not follow his example; because we do
everything better than his great ship. I begin to take great interest in
naval points, more especially now, as I find they all say we are the No.
1 in South America. I suppose the Captain is a most excellent officer.
It was quite glorious to-day how we beat the _Samarang_ in furling
sails. It is quite a new thing for a "sounding ship" to beat a regular
man-of-war; and yet the _Beagle_ is not at all a particular ship.
Erasmus will clearly perceive it when he hears that in the night I have
actually sat down in the sacred precincts of the quarter deck. You must
excuse these queer letters, and recollect they are generally written in
the evening after my day's work. I take more pains over my log-book, so
that eventually you will have a good account of all the places I visit.
Hitherto the voyage has answered _admirably_ to me, and yet I am now
more fully aware of your wisdom in throwing cold water on the whole
scheme; the chances are so numerous of [its] turning out quite the
reverse; to such an extent do I feel this, that if my advice was asked
by any person on a similar occasion, I should be very cautious in
encouraging him. I have not time to write to anybody else, so send to
Maer to let them know, that in the midst of the glorious tropical
scenery, I do not forget how instrumental they were in placing me there.
I will not rapturise again, but I give myself great credit in not being
crazy out of pure delight.
Give my love to every soul at home, and to the Owens.
I think one's affections, like other good things, flourish and increase
in these tropical regions.
The conviction that I am walking in the New World is even yet
marvellous in my own eyes, and I daresay it is little less so to you,
the receiving a letter from a son of yours in such a quarter.
Believe me, my dear father, your most affectionate son.
The _Beagle_ letters give ample proof of his strong love of home, and
all connected with it, from his father down to Nancy, his old nurse, to
whom he sometimes sends his love.
His delight in home-letters is shown in such passages as:--"But if you
knew the glowing, unspeakable delight, which I felt at being certain
that my father and all of you were well, only four months ago, you would
not grudge the labour lost in keeping up the regular series of letters."
"You would be surprised to know how entirely the pleasure in arriving at
a new place depends on letters."
"I saw the other day a vessel sail for England; it was quite dangerous
to know how easily I might turn deserter. As for an English lady, I have
almost forgotten what she is--something very angelic and good."
"I have just received a bundle more letters. I do not know how to thank
you all sufficiently. One from Catherine, February 8th, another from
Susan, March 3rd, together with notes from Caroline and from my father;
give my best love to my father. I almost cried for pleasure at receiving
it; it was very kind thinking of writing to me. My letters are both few,
short, and stupid in return for all yours; but I always ease my
conscience, by considering the Journal as a long letter."
Or again--his longing to return in words like these:--"It is too
delightful to think that I shall see the leaves fall and hear the robin
sing next autumn at Shrewsbury. My feelings are those of a school-boy to
the smallest point; I doubt whether ever boy longed for his holidays as
much as I do to see you all again. I am at present, although nearly half
the world is between me and home, beginning to arrange what I shall do,
where I shall go during the first week."
"No schoolboys ever sung the half-sentimental and half-jovial strain of
'dulce domum' with more fervour than we all feel inclined to do. But the
whole subject of 'dulce domum,' and the delight of seeing one's friends,
is most dangerous, it must infallibly make one very prosy or very
boisterous. Oh, the degree to which I long to be once again living
quietly with not one single novel object near me! No one can imagine it
till he has been whirled round the world during five long years in a
ten-gun brig."
The following extracts may serve to give an idea of the impressions now
crowding on him, as well as of the vigorous delight with which he
plunged into scientific work.
May 18, 1832, to Henslow:--
"Here [Rio], I first saw a tropical forest in all its sublime
grandeur--nothing but the reality can give any idea how wonderful, how
magnificent the scene is. If I was to specify any one thing I should
give the pre-eminence to the host of parasitical plants. Your engraving
is exactly true, but under-rates rather than exaggerates the luxuriance.
I never experienced such intense delight. I formerly admired Humboldt, I
now almost adore him; he alone gives any notion of the feelings which
are raised in the mind on first entering the Tropics. I am now
collecting fresh-water and land animals; if what was told me in London
is true, viz., that there are no small insects in the collections from
the Tropics, I tell Entomologists to look out and have their pens ready
for describing. I have taken as minute (if not more so) as in England,
Hydropori, Hygroti, Hydrobii, Pselaphi, Staphylini, Curculio, &c. &c. It
is exceedingly interesting observing the difference of genera and
species from those which I know; it is however much less than I had
expected. I am at present red-hot with spiders; they are very
interesting, and if I am not mistaken I have already taken some new
genera. I shall have a large box to send very soon to Cambridge, and
with that I will mention some more natural history particulars."
"One great source of perplexity to me is an utter ignorance whether I
note the right facts, and whether they are of sufficient importance to
interest others. In the one thing collecting I cannot go wrong."
"Geology carries the day: it is like the pleasure of gambling.
Speculating, on first arriving, what the rocks may be, I often mentally
cry out 3 to 1 tertiary against primitive; but the latter have hitherto
won all the bets. So much for the grand end of my voyage: in other
respects things are equally flourishing. My life, when at sea, is so
quiet, that to a person who can employ himself, nothing can be
pleasanter; the beauty of the sky and brilliancy of the ocean together
make a picture. But when on shore, and wandering in the sublime forests,
surrounded by views more gorgeous than even Claude ever imagined, I
enjoy a delight which none but those who have experienced it can
understand. At our ancient snug breakfasts, at Cambridge, I little
thought that the wide Atlantic would ever separate us; but it is a rare
privilege that with the body, the feelings and memory are not divided.
On the contrary, the pleasantest scenes in my life, many of which have
been in Cambridge, rise from the contrast of the present, the more
vividly in my imagination. Do you think any diamond beetle will ever
give me so much pleasure as our old friend _crux-major_?... It is one of
my most constant amusements to draw pictures of the past; and in them I
often see you and poor little Fan. Oh, Lord, and then old Dash poor
thing! Do you recollect how you all tormented me about his beautiful
tail?"--[From a letter to Fox.]
To his sister, June 1833:--
"I am quite delighted to find the hide of the Megatherium has given you
all some little interest in my employments. These fragments are not,
however, by any means the most valuable of the geological relics. I
trust and believe that the time spent in this voyage, if thrown away for
all other respects, will produce its full worth in Natural History; and
it appears to me the doing what _little_ we can to increase the general
stock of knowledge is as respectable an object of life as one can in any
likelihood pursue. It is more the result of such reflections (as I have
already said) than much immediate pleasure which now makes me continue
the voyage, together with the glorious prospect of the future, when
passing the Straits of Magellan, we have in truth the world before us."
To Fox, July 1835:--
"I am glad to hear you have some thoughts of beginning Geology. I hope
you will; there is so much larger a field for thought than in the other
branches of Natural History. I am become a zealous disciple of Mr.
Lyell's views, as known in his admirable book. Geologising in South
America, I am tempted to carry parts to a greater extent even than he
does. Geology is a capital science to begin, as it requires nothing but
a little reading, thinking, and hammering. I have a considerable body of
notes together; but it is a constant subject of perplexity to me,
whether they are of sufficient value for all the time I have spent about
them, or whether animals would not have been of more certain value."
In the following letter to his sister Susan he gives an
account,--adapted to the non-geological mind,--of his South American
work:--
Valparaiso, April 23, 1835.
MY DEAR SUSAN--I received, a few days since, your letter of November;
the three letters which I before mentioned are yet missing, but I do not
doubt they will come to life. I returned a week ago from my excursion
across the Andes to Mendoza. Since leaving England I have never made so
successful a journey; it has, however, been very expensive. I am sure my
father would not regret it, if he could know how deeply I have enjoyed
it: it was something more than enjoyment; I cannot express the delight
which I felt at such a famous winding-up of all my geology in South
America. I literally could hardly sleep at nights for thinking over my
day's work. The scenery was so new, and so majestic; everything at an
elevation of 12,000 feet bears so different an aspect from that in a
lower country. I have seen many views more beautiful, but none with so
strongly marked a character. To a geologist, also, there are such
manifest proofs of excessive violence; the strata of the highest
pinnacles are tossed about like the crust of a broken pie.
I do not suppose any of you can be much interested in geological
details, but I will just mention my principal results:--Besides
understanding to a certain extent the description and manner of the
force which has elevated this great line of mountains, I can clearly
demonstrate that one part of the double line is of an age long posterior
to the other. In the more ancient line, which is the true chain of the
Andes, I can describe the sort and order of the rocks which compose it.
These are chiefly remarkable by containing a bed of gypsum nearly 2000
feet thick--a quantity of this substance I should think unparalleled in
the world. What is of much greater consequence, I have procured fossil
shells (from an elevation of 12,000 feet). I think an examination of
these will give an approximate age to these mountains, as compared to
the strata of Europe. In the other line of the Cordilleras there is a
strong presumption (in my own mind, conviction) that the enormous mass
of mountains, the peaks of which rise to 13,000 and 14,000 feet, are so
very modern as to be contemporaneous with the plains of Patagonia (or
about with the _upper_ strata of the Isle of Wight). If this result
shall be considered as proved,[93] it is a very important fact in the
theory of the formation of the world; because, if such wonderful changes
have taken place so recently in the crust of the globe, there can be no
reason for supposing former epochs of excessive violence....
Another feature in his letters is the surprise and delight with which he
hears of his collections and observations being of some use. It seems
only to have gradually occurred to him that he would ever be more than a
collector of specimens and facts, of which the great men were to make
use. And even as to the value of his collections he seems to have had
much doubt, for he wrote to Henslow in 1834: "I really began to think
that my collections were so poor that you were puzzled what to say; the
case is now quite on the opposite tack, for you are guilty of exciting
all my vain feelings to a most comfortable pitch; if hard work will
atone for these thoughts, I vow it shall not be spared."
Again, to his sister Susan in August, 1836:--
"Both your letters were full of good news; especially the expressions
which you tell me Professor Sedgwick[94] used about my collections. I
confess they are deeply gratifying--I trust one part at least will turn
out true, and that I shall act as I now think--as a man who dares to
waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life. Professor
Sedgwick mentioning my name at all gives me hopes that he will assist me
with his advice, of which, in my geological questions, I stand much in
need."
Occasional allusions to slavery show us that his feeling on this subject
was at this time as strong as in later life[95]:--
"The Captain does everything in his power to assist me, and we get on
very well, but I thank my better fortune he has not made me a renegade
to Whig principles. I would not be a Tory, if it was merely on account
of their cold hearts about that scandal to Christian nations--Slavery."
"I have watched how steadily the general feeling, as shown at elections,
has been rising against Slavery. What a proud thing for England if she
is the first European nation which utterly abolishes it! I was told
before leaving England that after living in slave countries all my
opinions would be altered; the only alteration I am aware of is forming
a much higher estimate of the negro character. It is impossible to see a
negro and not feel kindly towards him; such cheerful, open, honest
expressions and such fine muscular bodies. I never saw any of the
diminutive Portuguese, with their murderous countenances, without almost
wishing for Brazil to follow the example of Hayti; and, considering the
enormous healthy-looking black population, it will be wonderful if, at
some future day, it does not take place. There is at Rio a man (I know
not his title) who has a large salary to prevent (I believe) the landing
of slaves; he lives at Botofogo, and yet that was the bay where, during
my residence, the greater number of smuggled slaves were landed. Some of
the Anti-Slavery people ought to question about his office; it was the
subject of conversation at Rio amongst the lower English...."
_C. D. to J. S. Henslow._ Sydney [January, 1836].
MY DEAR HENSLOW--This is the last opportunity of communicating with you
before that joyful day when I shall reach Cambridge. I have very little
to say: but I must write if it is only to express my joy that the last
year is concluded, and that the present one, in which the _Beagle_ will
return, is gliding onward. We have all been disappointed here in not
finding even a single letter; we are, indeed, rather before our expected
time, otherwise I dare say, I should have seen your handwriting. I must
feed upon the future, and it is beyond bounds delightful to feel the
certainty that within eight months I shall be residing once again most
quietly in Cambridge. Certainly, I never was intended for a traveller;
my thoughts are always rambling over past or future scenes; I cannot
enjoy the present happiness for anticipating the future, which is about
as foolish as the dog who dropped the real bone for its shadow....
I must return to my old resource and think of the future, but that I may
not become more prosy, I will say farewell till the day arrives, when I
shall see my Master in Natural History, and can tell him how grateful I
feel for his kindness and friendship.
Believe me, dear Henslow, ever yours most faithfully.
_C. D. to J. S. Henslow._ Shrewsbury [October, 6 1836].
MY DEAR HENSLOW--I am sure you will congratulate me on the delight of
once again being home. The _Beagle_ arrived at Falmouth on Sunday
evening, and I reached Shrewsbury yesterday morning. I am exceedingly
anxious to see you, and as it will be necessary in four or five days to
return to London to get my goods and chattels out of the _Beagle_, it
appears to me my best plan to pass through Cambridge. I want your advice
on many points; indeed I am in the clouds, and neither know what to do
or where to go. My chief puzzle is about the geological specimens--who
will have the charity to help me in describing their mineralogical
nature? Will you be kind enough to write to me one line by _return of
post_, saying whether you are now at Cambridge? I am doubtful till I
hear from Captain Fitz-Roy whether I shall not be obliged to start
before the answer can arrive, but pray try the chance. My dear Henslow,
I do long to see you; you have been the kindest friend to me that ever
man possessed. I can write no more, for I am giddy with joy and
confusion.
Farewell for the present,
Yours most truly obliged.
After his return and settlement in London, he began to realise the value
of what he had done, and wrote to Captain Fitz-Roy--"However others may
look back to the _Beagle's_ voyage, now that the small disagreeable
parts are well-nigh forgotten, I think it far the _most fortunate
circumstance in my life_ that the chance afforded by your offer of
taking a Naturalist fell on me. I often have the most vivid and
delightful pictures of what I saw on board the _Beagle_[96] pass before
my eyes. These recollections, and what I learnt on Natural History, I
would not exchange for twice ten thousand a year."
FOOTNOTES:
[89] _Voyages of the Adventure and Beagle_, vol. i. introduction xii.
The illustration at the head of the chapter is from vol. ii. of the same
work.
[90] His other nickname was "The Flycatcher." I have heard my father
tell how he overheard the boatswain of the _Beagle_ showing another
boatswain over the ship, and pointing out the officers: "That's our
first lieutenant; that's our doctor; that's our flycatcher."
[91] "There was such a scene here. Wickham (1st Lieutenant) and I were
the only two who landed with guns and geological hammers, &c. The birds
by myriads were too close to shoot; we then tried stones, but at last,
_proh pudor!_ my geological hammer was the instrument of death. We soon
loaded the boat with birds and eggs. Whilst we were so engaged, the men
in the boat were fairly fighting with the sharks for such magnificent
fish as you could not see in the London market. Our boat would have made
a fine subject for Snyders, such a medley of game it contained."--From a
letter to Herbert.
[92] "My mind has been, since leaving England, in a perfect hurricane of
delight and astonishment."--_C. D. to Fox_, May 1832, from Botofogo Bay.
[93] The importance of these results has been fully recognized by
geologists.
[94] Sedgwick wrote (November 7, 1835) to Dr. Butler, the head master of
Shrewsbury School:--"He is doing admirable work in South America, and
has already sent home a collection above all price. It was the best
thing in the world for him that he went out on the voyage of discovery.
There was some risk of his turning out an idle man, but his character
will now be fixed, and if God spares his life he will have a great name
among the naturalists of Europe...."--I am indebted to my friend Mr. J.
W. Clark, the biographer of Sedgwick, for the above extract.
[95] Compare the following passage from a letter (Aug. 25, 1845)
addressed to Lyell, who had touched on slavery in his _Travels in North
America._ "I was delighted with your letter in which you touch on
Slavery; I wish the same feelings had been apparent in your published
discussion. But I will not write on this subject, I should perhaps annoy
you, and most certainly myself. I have exhaled myself with a paragraph
or two in my Journal on the sin of Brazilian slavery; you perhaps will
think that it is in answer to you; but such is not the case. I have
remarked on nothing which I did not hear on the coast of South America.
My few sentences, however, are merely an explosion of feeling. How could
you relate so placidly that atrocious sentiment about separating
children from their parents; and in the next page speak of being
distressed at the whites not having prospered; I assure you the contrast
made me exclaim out. But I have broken my intention, and so no more on
this odious deadly subject." It is fair to add that the "atrocious
sentiments" were not Lyell's but those of a planter.
[96] According to the _Japan Weekly Mail_, as quoted in _Nature_, March
8, 1888, the _Beagle_ is in use as a training ship at Yokosuka, in
Japan. Part of the old ship is, I am glad to think, in my possession, in
the form of a box (which I owe to the kindness of Admiral Mellersh) made
out of her main cross-tree.