When Charles Darwin went to Edinburgh, the university was not in one of
its palmiest periods. The medical professors failed to attract him to
their profession, and two years of Edinburgh satisfied him that medicine
should not absorb him. With natural history the case was different. Its
attractiveness for Darwin increased. He found congenial companionship in
the Edinburgh Plinian Society, and Mr. W. F. Ainsworth relates (in _The
Athenæum_, May 13, 1882) that Darwin and himself made frequent
excursions on the shores of the Firth of Forth in pursuit of objects of
natural history, sometimes visiting the coasts of Fifeshire, and
sometimes the islands off the coast. On one occasion, accompanied by Dr.
Greville, the botanist, they went to the Isle of May, and were both
exceedingly amused at the effect produced upon the eminent author of the
Scottish Cryptogamic Flora by the screeching of the kittiwakes and other
water-fowl. He had actually to lie down on the greensward to enjoy his
prolonged cachinnation. On another occasion the young naturalists were
benighted on Inch Keith, but found refuge in the lighthouse.
Darwin was now not merely a collector and exploring naturalist, but he
observed biological facts of importance. On the 27th of March, 1827, he
made a communication to the Plinian Society on the ova, or rather larvæ,
of the Flustra or sea-mat, a member of the class Polyzoa, forming a
continuous mat-like colony of thousands of organisms leading a
joint-stock existence. He announced that he had discovered in these
larvæ organs of locomotion, then so seldom, now so frequently, known to
exist on such bodies. At the same time, he made known that the small
black body which until that time had been mistaken for the young state
of a species of seaweed, was in reality the egg of _Pontobdella
muricata_, a sort of sea-leech. On the 3rd of April following, the
discoverer exhibited specimens of the latter creature with eggs and
young.
In making these researches, Darwin was no doubt stimulated and aided by
the teaching of Dr. Grant, afterwards Professor of Natural History at
University College, London, who was then at Edinburgh, making
discoveries in the structure of sponges. Professor Jameson, too, who was
then forming his splendid museum of natural history, cannot fail to have
influenced Darwin somewhat; and we find that the first lecture of the
concluding portion of Jameson's zoological course, dealing with "The
Philosophy of Zoology," had the suggestive title of "The Origin of the
Species of Animals." Thus we must acknowledge that already at Edinburgh
Darwin was fairly started in the paths of zoological inquiry, and the
northern university must be admitted to share with Cambridge, the
distinction of being the foster-parent of this giant-child.
Medicine being distasteful, Edinburgh had no other distinctive charms to
offer to young Darwin, and he was entered at Christ's College,
Cambridge, early in 1828, with the idea of his becoming a clergyman of
the Church of England. It might have been thought that there was scant
stimulus for a biological student in the Cambridge of that period; but
although the old literary and mathematical studies were still the only
paths to a degree, there were men of original force and genius at work
preparing the ground for a coming revolution. Sedgwick was teaching
geology with the fire of a prophet, and Henslow as a botanist was
showing that lessons of enthralling interest were to be learned from the
humblest flower. Henslow especially attracted young Darwin, who never
forgot his old teacher. In the preface to the journal of his voyage in
the _Beagle_ he returns his most sincere thanks to Professor Henslow,
"who," he says, "when I was an undergraduate at Cambridge, was one chief
means of giving me a taste for natural history; who, during my absence,
took charge of the collections I sent home, and by his correspondence
directed my endeavours--and who, since my return, has constantly
rendered me every assistance which the kindest friend could offer."
No better idea of Darwin's Cambridge days can be given than that which
is derived from reading his account of Professor Henslow, contributed to
the Rev. L. Jenyns's "Memoirs" of that accomplished man. There can be no
doubt, also, that in thus pourtraying the character of another, he was
at the same time, as Mr. Romanes puts it, "unconsciously giving a most
accurate description of his own."
"I went to Cambridge," wrote Darwin, "early in the year 1828, and soon
became acquainted, through some of my brother entomologists,[3] with
Professor Henslow, for all who cared for any branch of natural history
were equally encouraged by him. Nothing could be more simple, cordial,
and unpretending than the encouragement which he afforded to all young
naturalists. I soon became intimate with him, for he had a remarkable
power of making the young feel completely at ease with him; though we
were all awe-struck with the amount of his knowledge. Before I saw him I
heard one young man sum up his attainments by simply saying that he knew
everything. When I reflect how immediately we felt at perfect ease with
a man older and in every way so immensely our superior, I think it was
as much owing to the transparent sincerity of his character, as to his
kindness of heart, and, perhaps, even still more to a highly remarkable
absence in him of all self-consciousness. One perceived at once that he
never thought of his own varied knowledge or clear intellect, but solely
on the subject in hand. Another charm, which must have struck every one,
was that his manner to old and distinguished persons and to the youngest
student was exactly the same: to all he showed the most winning
courtesy. He would receive with interest the most trifling observation
in any branch of natural history, and however absurd a blunder one might
make, he pointed it out so clearly and kindly, that one left him in no
way disheartened, but only determined to be more accurate the next time.
In short, no man could be better formed to win the entire confidence of
the young, and to encourage them in their pursuits.
"His lectures on botany were universally popular, and as clear as
daylight. So popular were they, that several of the older members of the
university attended successive courses. Once every week he kept open
house in the evening, and all who cared for natural history attended
these parties, which, by thus favouring intercommunication, did the same
good in Cambridge, in a very pleasant manner, as the scientific
societies do in London. At these parties many of the most distinguished
members of the university occasionally attended; and when only a few
were present, I have listened to the great men of those days conversing
on all sorts of subjects, with the most varied and brilliant powers.
This was no small advantage to some of the younger men, as it stimulated
their mental activity and ambition. Two or three times in each session
he took excursions with his botanical class, either a long walk to the
habitat of some rare plant, or in a barge down the river to the fens, or
in coaches to some more distant place, as to Gamlingay, to see the wild
lily-of-the-valley, and to catch on the heath the rare natter-jack.
These excursions have left a delightful impression on my mind. He was,
on such occasions, in as good spirits as a boy, and laughed as heartily
as a boy at the misadventures of those who chased the splendid
swallow-tail butterflies across the broken and treacherous fens. He used
to pause every now and then and lecture on some plant or other object;
and something he could tell us on every insect, shell, or fossil
collected, for he had attended to every branch of natural history. After
our day's work we used to dine at some inn or house, and most jovial we
then were. I believe all who joined these excursions will agree with me
that they have left an enduring impression of delight on our minds.
"As time passed on at Cambridge I became very intimate with Professor
Henslow, and his kindness was unbounded; he continually asked me to his
house, and allowed me to accompany him in his walks. He talked on all
subjects, including his deep sense of religion, and was entirely open. I
owe more than I can express to this excellent man. His kindness was
steady. When Captain Fitzroy offered to give up part of his own cabin to
any naturalist who would join the expedition in H.M.S. _Beagle_,
Professor Henslow recommended me as one who knew very little, but who,
he thought, would work. I was strongly attached to natural history, and
this attachment I owed in large part to him. During the five years'
voyage he regularly corresponded with me, and guided my efforts; he
received, opened, and took care of all the specimens sent home in many
large boxes; but I firmly believe that, during these five years, it
never once crossed his mind that he was acting towards me with unusual
and generous kindness.
"During the years when I associated so much with Professor Henslow I
never once saw his temper even ruffled. He never took an ill-natured
view of any one's character, though very far from blind to the foibles
of others. It always struck me that his mind could not be even touched
by any paltry feeling of vanity, envy, or jealousy. With all this
equability of temper and remarkable benevolence, there was no insipidity
of character. A man must have been blind not to have perceived that
beneath this placid exterior there was a vigorous and determined will.
When principle came into play no power on earth could have turned him
one hair's breadth....
"In intellect, as far as I could judge, accurate powers of observation,
sound sense, and cautious judgment seemed predominant. Nothing seemed to
give him so much enjoyment as drawing conclusions from minute
observations. But his admirable memoir on the geology of Anglesea shows
his capacity for extended observations and broad views. Reflecting over
his character with gratitude and reverence, his moral attributes rise,
as they should do in the highest character, in pre-eminence over his
intellect."
The young man's modesty is conspicuous in the above narrative. He does
not see how his own transparent candour, his desire to learn, his
respect for those who were already masters of science, won upon the
great men with whom he came in contact. It was by no means as "one who
knew very little" that Henslow recommended Darwin to Captain Fitzroy,
but as "a young man of promising ability, extremely fond of geology, and
indeed all branches of natural history." "In consequence," says Fitzroy,
"an offer was made to Mr. Darwin to be my guest on board, which he
accepted conditionally. Permission was obtained for his embarkation, and
an order given by the Admiralty that he should be borne on the ship's
books for provisions. The conditions asked by Mr. Darwin were, that he
should be at liberty to leave the _Beagle_ and retire from the
expedition when he thought proper, and that he should pay a fair share
of the expenses of my table."
Darwin had taken an ordinary or "poll" degree in 1831 and was admitted a
Master of Arts in 1837. In the interval he had become truly a Master of
Science, which at that time was adequately recognised by no university
in the British dominions. The memorable voyage of the _Beagle_, a little
barque of 242 tons, was at first delayed by heavy gales which twice
drove her back; but she finally sailed from Devonport on December 27,
1831. The object of the expedition was to complete the survey of
Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego, to survey the shores of Chili, Peru, and
some Pacific Islands, and to carry a chain of chronometrical
measurements round the world.
Professor Henslow's interest in his young pupil's progress is shown by
the fact that in 1835 (December 1) he printed some extracts from his
letters, for distribution among the members of the Cambridge
Philosophical Society, in consequence of the notice excited by some
geological observations they contained, which had been read before the
society on the 16th of November previous. The following points having a
personal reference to the traveller may be quoted. On August 15, 1832,
Darwin wrote from Monte Video, "I might collect a far greater number of
specimens of invertebrate animals if I took up less time over each: but
I have come to the conclusion that two animals with their original
colour and shape noted down will be more valuable to naturalists than
six with only dates and place." Here we see the accuracy which was the
source of much of his after-success. On November 24, 1832, he writes
from the same place, "As for one little toad, I hope it may be new, that
it may be christened 'Diabolicus.' Milton must allude to this very
individual, when he talks of 'squat like a toad.'" In March, 1834,
writing from East Falkland Island, he says, "The whole of the east coast
of the southern part of South America has been elevated from the ocean
since a period during which mussels have not lost their blue colour."
Describing his examination of the central peaks of the Andes in Chili,
he says, April 18, 1835, "I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed some of
these views; it is worth coming from England, once to feel such intense
delight. At an elevation of from ten to twelve thousand feet, there is a
transparency in the air, and a confusion of distances, and a sort of
stillness, which give the sensation of being in another world."
Coming now to Darwin's Journal as first published in 1839, forming the
third volume of Fitzroy's narrative, the 7th of January, 1832, on which
the Peak of Teneriffe was seen suddenly illumined, while the lower parts
were veiled in fleecy clouds, is noted as "the first of many delightful
days never to be forgotten." On the 16th the Cape de Verde Islands were
reached, and their volcanic geology was carefully explored. Darwin was
already equipped with the first volume of Lyell's famous "Principles of
Geology," published in 1830, the second following in 1832; and in the
second edition of his journal, published in 1845, he acknowledges with
grateful pleasure "that the chief part of whatever scientific merit this
journal and the other works of the author may possess, has been derived
from studying the well-known and admirable 'Principles of Geology.'" He
was already noting the diffusion of minute organisms and impalpable dust
by winds,[4] and was much surprised to find in some dust collected on a
vessel 300 miles from land particles of stone more than a thousandth of
an inch square. After this, he remarks, one need not be surprised at the
diffusion of the far lighter and smaller sporules of cryptogamous
plants.
The volcanic island of St. Paul in the open Atlantic was touched at on
February 16th, and it afforded the young naturalist a text for
destroying the pretty ideas as to stately palms and birds taking
possession of newly-formed oceanic land; at any rate, here were only two
species of sea birds, no plants, and the fauna was completed by a number
of insects and spiders of no very exalted habits. Fernando Noronha was
passed on February 20th, and at last the South American continent was
reached.
On February 29th, at Bahia, Darwin describes his first day in a
Brazilian forest, in a passage which is of special interest. "The day
has passed delightfully. Delight itself, however, is a weak term to
express the feelings of a naturalist who, for the first time, has
wandered by himself in a Brazilian forest. The elegance of the grasses,
the novelty of the parasitical plants, the beauty of the flowers, the
glossy green of the foliage, but, above all, the general luxuriance of
the vegetation, filled me with admiration. A most paradoxical mixture of
sound and silence pervades the shady parts of the wood. The noise from
the insects is so loud that it may be heard even in a vessel anchored
several hundred yards from the shore; yet within the recesses of the
forest a universal silence appears to reign. To a person fond of natural
history, such a day as this brings with it a deeper pleasure than he can
ever hope to experience again."
Arriving at Rio de Janeiro early in April, Darwin made several
excursions into the interior during the following three months. On these
expeditions it was rarely indeed that decent accommodation could be
procured at the inns. "On first arriving," he says, "it was our custom
to unsaddle the horses and give them their Indian corn; then, with a low
bow, to ask the senhor to do us the favour to give us something to eat.
'Anything you choose, sir,' was his usual answer. For the few first
times, vainly I thanked Providence for having guided us to so good a
man. The conversation proceeding, the case universally became
deplorable. 'Any fish can you do us the favour of giving?' 'Oh, no,
sir!' 'Any soup?' 'No, sir!' 'Any bread?' 'Oh, no, sir!' 'Any dried
meat?' 'Oh, no, sir!' If we were lucky, by waiting a couple of hours, we
obtained fowls, rice, and farinha. It not unfrequently happened that we
were obliged to kill, with stones, the poultry for our own supper. When,
thoroughly exhausted by fatigue and hunger, we timorously hinted that we
should be glad of our meal, the pompous and (though true) most
unsatisfactory answer was, 'It will be ready when it is ready!' If we
had dared to remonstrate any further, we should have been told to
proceed on our journey, as being too impertinent. The hosts are most
ungracious and disagreeable in their manners; their houses and their
persons are often filthily dirty; the want of the accommodation of
forks, knives, and spoons is common; and I am sure no cottage or hovel
in England could be found in a state so utterly destitute of every
comfort."
When we add to these discomforts on land the fact that the young
traveller was a constant sufferer from sea-sickness and nausea, which
became chronic, it becomes more surprising that he should not have
withdrawn early from his adventurous course. But his energy and
resolution were equal to any drafts upon them, and the delights of the
study of nature outweighed all physical discomforts. Admiral J. Lort
Stokes in a letter to _The Times_, after the death of his old friend
and comrade in the _Beagle_, described how after perhaps an hour's work
he would say, "Old fellow, I must take the horizontal for it." Then he
would stretch himself on one side of the table, and obtain a brief
relief from discomfort, after which he would resume work.
Some remarks which Darwin makes upon slavery in South America are very
forcible, and also illustrate his own sympathetic nature. Here is one
incident which struck him more than any story of cruelty, as showing the
degradation of slavery. "I was crossing a ferry with a negro, who was
uncommonly stupid. In endeavouring to make him understand, I talked
loud, and made signs, in doing which I passed my hand near his face. He,
I suppose, thought I was in a passion, and was going to strike him; for
instantly, with a frightened look and half-shut eyes, he dropped his
hands. I shall never forget my feelings of surprise, disgust, and shame,
at seeing a great powerful man afraid even to ward off a blow, directed,
as he thought, at his face. This man had been trained to a degradation
lower than the slavery of the most helpless animal."
In one of the numerous additions to the second issue of the Journal in
1845, Darwin speaks thus eloquently from his heart: "On the 19th of
August [1836], we finally left the shores of Brazil. I thank God I shall
never again visit a slave-country. To this day, if I hear a distant
scream, it recalls with painful vividness my feelings when, passing a
house near Pernambuco, I heard the most pitiable moans, and could not
but suspect that some poor slave was being tortured, yet knew that I
was as powerless as a child, even to remonstrate. I suspected that these
moans were from a tortured slave, for I was told that this was the case
in another instance. Near Rio de Janeiro I lived opposite to an old
lady, who kept screws to crush the fingers of her female slaves. I have
stayed in a house where a young household mulatto, daily and hourly, was
reviled, beaten, and persecuted enough to break the spirit of the lowest
animal. I have seen a little boy, six or seven years old, struck thrice
with a horse-whip (before I could interfere) on his naked head, for
having handed me a glass of water not quite clean; I saw his father
tremble at a mere glance from his master's eye.... I will not even
allude to the many heart-sickening atrocities which I authentically
heard of; nor would I have mentioned the above revolting details, had I
not met with several people, so blinded by the constitutional gaiety of
the negro, as to speak of slavery as a tolerable evil.... Those who look
tenderly at the slave-owner, and with a cold heart at the slave, never
seem to put themselves into the position of the latter. What a cheerless
prospect, with not even a hope of change! Picture to yourself the
chance, ever hanging over you, of your wife and your little
children--those objects which nature urges even the slave to call his
own--being torn from you, and sold like beasts to the first bidder! And
these deeds are done and palliated by men who profess to love their
neighbours as themselves, who believe in God, and pray that His will be
done on earth!"
Such burning expressions are not yet superfluous, and it is wholesome to
recall to a generation which scarcely realises the past miseries of
slavery, and is too apt to rest content with what has been accomplished
in diminishing the sufferings of slaves, white and black, the impression
produced on a scientific man by what he saw. It is well, too, that it
should be brought forcibly home to Englishmen that Darwin's heart was no
less sympathetic than his intelligence was far-seeing, and that the
testimony of friends of late years to his moral grandeur is corroborated
by the personal records of his years of travel.
The variety and interest of the observations made during his stay at
Rio, when tropical nature was still a fresh and unexplored page to the
young observer, are wonderful. Cabbage palms, liana creepers, luxuriant
fern leaves--roads, bridges, and soil--planarian worms, frogs which
climbed perpendicular sheets of glass, the light of fireflies, brilliant
butterflies, fights between spiders and wasps, the victories of ants
over difficulties, the habits of monkeys, the little Brazilian boys
practising knife-throwing--all these came in turn under his watchful
eyes and are vividly described.
In July, 1832, Monte Video was reached, and the _Beagle_ was occupied in
surveying the extreme southern and eastern coasts of America, south of
La Plata, during the succeeding two years. During ten weeks at Maldonado
an entertaining excursion to the River Polanco was made, and many a
humorous remark appears in the Journal relating to it. "The greater
number of the inhabitants [of European descent] had an indistinct idea
that England, London, and North America were different names for the
same place; but the better-informed well knew that London and North
America were separate countries close together, and that England was a
large town in London!" "Washing my face in the morning caused much
speculation at the village of Las Minas; a superior tradesman closely
cross-questioned me about so singular a practice." Among these rich
descendants of Europeans Darwin felt as if he were among the inhabitants
of Central Africa; so low can the proud superior race descend, that the
distance between it and the negro appeared small indeed. The remarkable
absence of trees in the country could not fail to provoke comment; but
it is on the old-fashioned basis, and the young student does not get
beyond the conclusion "that herbaceous plants, instead of trees, were
created to occupy that wide area, which, within a period not very
remote, has been raised above the waters of the sea." This appears in
the first edition; but in 1845 these words were expunged, and the author
says significantly "we must look to some other and unknown cause."
At Maldonado within the distance of a morning's walk no fewer than
eighty species of birds were collected, most of them exceedingly
beautiful. Darwin's observations on the molothri (representatives of our
cuckoos), the tyrant fly-catchers, and the carrion-feeding hawks are
most attractive reading. Rio Negro, much further south, was next
visited, and the fauna of a salt lake examined. The adaptation of
creatures to live in and near brine struck him as wonderful. "Well may
we affirm," says he, "that every part of the world is habitable! Whether
lakes of brine, or those subterranean ones, hidden beneath volcanic
mountains--warm mineral springs--the wide expanse and depths of the
ocean--the upper regions of the atmosphere, and even the surface of
perpetual snow--all support organic beings." Here he found reason to
believe that all the great plains which he was surveying had been raised
above the sea level in a modern geological period.
Our naturalist started by land for Bahia Blanca and Buenos Ayres on
August 11, 1833, and we have the record: "This was the first night which
I had ever passed under the open sky, with the gear of the recado for my
bed. There is high enjoyment in the independence of the Gaucho's life,
to be able at any moment to pull up your horse, and say, 'Here we will
pass the night.' The deathlike stillness of the plain, the dogs keeping
watch, the gipsy group of Gauchos making their beds round the fire, have
left in my mind a strongly-marked picture of this first night, which
will not soon be forgotten." After an interesting _rencontre_ with
General Rosas, Bahia Blanca was reached, and at Punta Alta were found
many of the fossil bones which Owen subsequently described, this point
being a perfect catacomb, as Darwin terms it, for monsters of extinct
races. The remains of nine great kinds of quadrupeds chiefly allied to
the sloths were found embedded on the beach within a space of about two
hundred yards square; and these were associated with shells of molluscs
of still existing species. Here was indeed a remarkable fact to
germinate in the great naturalist's mind. It bore full fruit at a later
date. An important theory then current, that large animals require a
luxuriant vegetation, was overthrown at the same time, for there was
every reason to believe that the sterility of the surrounding country
was no new thing. The South American ostrich and many other animals
here afforded material for important observations.
On the way to Buenos Ayres, the rugged Sierra de la Ventana, a white
quartz mountain, was ascended. Buenos Ayres was reached on September 20,
1833, and no time was lost in arranging for an expedition to Santa Fé,
nearly 300 miles up the Parana. On October 3, Santa Fé was entered, and
near it many more remains of large extinct mammals were found. The
remains of a horse, in a similar fossil condition, greatly astonished
our explorer, for it seemed indeed surprising that in South America a
native horse should have co-existed with giant extinct forms, and should
itself have become extinct, to be succeeded in modern times by the
countless herds descended from the few horses introduced by the Spanish
colonists. These and other strange facts in the distribution of
mammalian animals in America led Darwin to make some pregnant comments.
The enormous number of large bones embedded in the estuary deposits
became continually more evident, until he came to the conclusion that
the whole area of the Pampas was one wide sepulchre.
Unfortunately ill-health compelled the explorer to return, and on
October 12th he started for Buenos Ayres in a small vessel. During this
journey he had an opportunity of examining the shifting and variable
islands of the muddy Parana, on which the jaguar thrives. Arrived at Las
Conchas, a revolution had broken out, and Darwin was detained to a
certain extent under surveillance; but by the influence of General
Rosas' name, he was allowed to pass the sentinels, leaving his guide
and horses behind, and ultimately reached Buenos Ayres in safety. After
a fortnight's delay, Monte Video was once more made for. Here it
appeared that the _Beagle_ would remain sometime longer, so the restless
inquirer started on another expedition, this time up the Uruguay and Rio
Negro. One of the halts was at the house of a very large landed
proprietor. A friend of the proprietor's, a runaway captain from Buenos
Ayres, was very anxious to have the traveller's opinion on the beauty of
the Buenos Ayres ladies, and on receiving satisfactory assurances,
voluntarily gave up his bed to the stranger! During this journey amazing
quantities of huge thistles were met with, the cardoon being as high as
a horse's back, while the Pampas thistle rose above the rider's head. To
leave the road for a yard was out of the question. Incidentally the
writer describes fully the horsemanship of the Gauchos, and gives a
vivid picture of the state of society in the towns.
During this journey, too, a peculiar breed of small cattle, called
niata, was observed, but full details were not given till the second
edition of the Journal appeared. This breed is strangely at a
disadvantage in droughts, compared with ordinary cattle; their lower
jaws project beyond the upper, and their lips do not join, rendering
them unable to browse on twigs. "This strikes me," says Darwin, "as a
good illustration of how little we are able to judge from the ordinary
habits of life, on what circumstances, occurring only at long intervals,
the rarity or extinction of a species may be determined." By the time
this appeared, however, in 1845, the author had embarked on his great
investigation.
The Rio Plata was quitted on December 6, 1833, and sail was made for
Port Desire, on the coast of Patagonia. One evening, ten miles from the
Bay of San Blas, myriads of butterflies filled the air, so that the
seamen cried out that it was snowing butterflies. The flight seemed to
be voluntary. On another occasion many beetles were found alive and
swimming, seventeen miles from the nearest land. But these instances
were insignificant compared with the alighting of a large grasshopper on
the _Beagle_, when to windward of the Cape de Verde Islands, and when
the nearest land, in a direction not opposed to the prevailing trade
wind, was 370 miles distant. Marvellous appearances of spiders far from
land were also noted. One day when the ship was sixty miles from land
vast numbers of a small gossamer spider arrived. Its habits in fact were
aëronautic; it would send forth a small thread, and suddenly letting go
its hold, would sail away horizontally.
The _Beagle_ arrived at Port Desire on December 23, 1833, but Patagonia
afforded less of interest to the zoologist than the northern countries.
The next halt was made at Port St. Julian, 110 miles further south, on
January 9, 1834. Here the evidences of the modern elevation of Patagonia
were powerfully reinforced, and further, from the nature of the animal
remains arose the conviction that "existing animals have a close
relation in form with extinct species," another of the germinal facts
which bore fruit in the "Origin of Species." Darwin was led to speculate
on the causes which could have extinguished so many great species, and
he remarks most suggestively: "One is tempted to believe in such simple
relations as variation of climate and food, or introduction of enemies,
or the increased numbers of other species, as the cause of the
succession of races." But he does not yet go farther. He ends his
reflections by observing: "All that at present can be said with
certainty is that, as with the individual, so with the species, the hour
of life has run its course, and is spent."
In the second edition of the Journal the philosopher showed signs of
considerable advance (pp. 174-5). The effect of changed conditions is
further developed. The checks to indefinite multiplication are insisted
on, while the tendency of every species to increase geometrically is
clearly pointed out. In the place of the former concluding sentence we
find the following: "To admit that species generally become rare before
they become extinct--to feel no surprise at the comparative rarity of
one species with another, and yet to call in some extraordinary agent
and to marvel greatly when a species ceases to exist, appears to me much
the same as to admit that sickness in the individual is the prelude to
death--to feel no surprise at sickness--but when the sick man dies, to
wonder, and to believe that he died through violence."
The continental regions of South America did not supply the sole food
for the reflections of the young naturalist during this period. An
intervening visit had been paid, in December, 1832, and January, 1833,
to Tierra del Fuego, and the natives were most carefully observed. He
was greatly struck by their low condition; "one can hardly make oneself
believe they are fellow creatures, and inhabitants of the same world."
Yet these abject people have been infinitely raised since that period
by missionaries, and Darwin, hearing of this success, which he termed
wonderful, sent a donation to the South American Missionary Society.
The Falkland Islands were explored both in 1833 and 1834, and the
Straits of Magellan were carefully examined, and many valuable
geological facts recorded. The southern portion of the continent was at
last quitted for Chili, Valparaiso being reached on July 23, 1834. After
Tierra del Fuego this was a delightful change, and here Darwin found an
old schoolfellow and friend, Mr. Richard Corfield, who entertained him
hospitably during his stay in Chili. Various expeditions to the Andes,
to Santiago, to gold mines and copper mines, supplied abundant objects
of curiosity and science, as well as varied visions of beauty; but the
fatigues undergone had to be paid for by a month's illness at
Valparaiso, during which Mr. Corfield's kindness was unremitting.
The large island of Chiloe was visited in November, and its climate even
in summer proved wretched, reminding one of some parts of the Hebrides,
a week without torrents of rain being wonderful. Castro, the almost
deserted Spanish capital, could not furnish, even among hundreds of
inhabitants, a pound of sugar or an ordinary knife. No one possessed
either a watch or a clock, and the church bell was rung by guess by an
old man who was supposed to have the best notion of time.
In December the rugged Chonos Archipelago, still further south, was
explored. Here a storm worthy of Tierra del Fuego was experienced.
"White, massive clouds were piled up against a dark blue sky, and
across them black, ragged sheets of vapour were rapidly driven. The
successive mountain ranges appeared like dim shadows; and the setting
sun cast on the woodland a yellow gleam, much like that produced by the
flame of spirits of wine on a man's countenance. The water was white
with the flying spray; and the wind lulled and roared again through the
rigging. It was a most ominous, sublime scene." While near Tres Montes
the year 1835 was ushered in, as Darwin says, "with the ceremonies
proper to it in these regions. She lays out no false hopes; a heavy N.W.
gale, with steady rain, bespeaks the rising year. Thank God, we are not
destined here to see the end of it, but hope then to be in the Pacific,
where a blue sky tells one there is a heaven--a something beyond the sky
above our heads."
Valdivia being reached in February, the _Beagle_ party were witnesses of
a severe earthquake. Darwin was on shore, lying down in the wood to
rest. The effect produced upon him by the motion he experienced was very
marked: "There was no difficulty in standing upright, but the motion
made me almost giddy. It was something like the movement of a vessel in
a little cross ripple, or still more like that felt by a person skating
over thin ice, which bends under the weight of his body. A bad
earthquake at once destroys the oldest associations; the world, the very
emblem of all that is solid, has moved beneath our feet like a crust
over a fluid; one second of time has conveyed to the mind a strange idea
of insecurity, which hours of reflection would never have created." By
the same earthquake every house in Concepcion (afterwards visited) was
thrown down, and a most impressive sight met the travellers.
Arriving at Valparaiso again on March 11, 1835, after only an interval
of two days the indefatigable explorer started to cross the Cordillera
by the seldom traversed Portillo pass. Here geological observations were
abundant. The roar of the mountain torrents spoke eloquently to the
geologist. "The thousands and thousands of stones, which, striking
against each other, make the one dull uniform sound, are all hurrying in
one direction. It is like thinking of time, when the minute that now
glides past is irrecoverable. So it is with these stones; the ocean is
their eternity, and each note of that wild music tells of one other step
towards their destiny." Who can fail to discern in such a passage the
poetic instinct which Erasmus Darwin more fully manifested?
Mendoza was reached on March 27th, and on the 29th the return journey by
the northern or Uspallata pass was commenced. On the 10th of April
Santiago was again arrived at, and Mr. Caldcleugh most hospitably
welcomed the traveller, delighted with his expedition. "Never," he says,
"did I more deeply enjoy an equal space of time." Various excursions in
Northern Chili and Peru followed. Little was seen of Peru, owing to the
troubled state of public affairs, and there was very little regret when
the _Beagle_ started early in September on her journey across the
Pacific.
The Galapagos Islands, with their two thousand volcanic craters, their
apparently leafless bushes and wretched weeds, their peculiar animals,
so unsuspicious of man that they did not move when stones were thrown,
were extremely interesting to the naturalist, and gave rise to numerous
observations and suggestions in later works. The huge tortoises slowly
carrying their great bodies about, appeared like strange antediluvian
animals. The hideous large water-lizard (_Amblyrhynchus_), swimming with
perfect ease, and capable of an hour's immersion in sea-water; and the
land lizard of the same genus, so numerous that at James Island it was
hardly possible to find a spot free from their burrows, the roofs of
which constantly give way under the pedestrian, were equally strange
denizens of this group of islands, where reptiles replace herbivorous
mammals. With regard to the last-mentioned species we find a remark
indicating the persistence of a belief in special creation up to this
date. "It would appear as if this species had been created in the centre
of the Archipelago, and thence had been dispersed only to a certain
distance."
During the years intervening between the first and second editions of
the Journal, reflection intensified Darwin's perception of the
singularity of the Galapagos fauna. "Considering the small size of these
islands," he says, "we feel the more astonished at the number of their
aboriginal beings, and at their confined range. Seeing every height
crowned with its crater, and the boundaries of most of the lava streams
still distinct, we are led to believe that within a period geologically
recent the unbroken sea was here spread out. Hence, both in space and
time, we seem to be brought somewhat nearer to that great fact--that
mystery of mysteries--the first appearance of new beings on this earth."
And he afterwards says, "One is astonished at the amount of creative
force, if such an expression may be used, displayed on these small,
barren, and rocky islands; and still more so at its diverse yet
analogous action in points so near each other."
The long voyage to Tahiti, 3,200 miles, begun on October 20, 1835,
ending on November 15th, was succeeded by a most enjoyable stay. Darwin
was as delighted as any traveller with the charms of the island and the
islanders. His testimony to the quality of English products is worth
noticing, if only as a piece of natural patriotism. He acknowledges that
Tahitian pineapples are of excellent flavour, perhaps better than those
cultivated in England, and this he believes to be the highest compliment
which can be paid to a fruit, or indeed to anything else. He found
reason to speak well of the influence of the Christian missionaries on
the natives, and of the conscientiousness of the latter, in opposition
to Kotzebue's narrative.
On December 19th New Zealand was sighted. Our traveller's observations
here are of much value, as relating to a late period before civilised
government was effectively established. At Waimate he was delighted with
the effects produced by the religious teacher. "The lesson of the
missionary is the enchanter's wand," and he rejoiced as an Englishman at
what his countrymen had effected. The remarkable absence of land
mammals, the late enormous increase of the imported Norway rat, the dock
spreading far and wide, its seeds having been sold as tobacco seeds by a
rascally Englishman, the huge Kauri pines, were all full of import to
the inquiring mind; but New Zealand proved on the whole less
attractive, as seen by Darwin, than most other countries he had visited.
December 30th saw the _Beagle_ on the way to Sydney, and Port Jackson
was reached on January 12, 1836. An interesting excursion to the Blue
Mountains and to Bathurst showed many aspects of colonial life, as well
as the strange duckbill or platypus in its native haunts. Tasmania, with
which island Darwin was greatly pleased, was visited in February. In
April the Keeling Islands furnished much of the material for the future
book on coral reefs, the essence of which is, however, included in the
Journal. Mauritius, Cape Town, St. Helena, Ascension, Bahia, Pernambuco,
Cape Verde, and the Azores were the successive stages of the homeward
journey, and on October 2, 1836, anchor was cast at Falmouth, where the
naturalist, equipped for his life work, was landed.
The high opinion Captain Fitzroy formed of Darwin during this long
voyage is shown by many passages in his own narrative, and by many other
references. He paid him the marked compliment of naming no fewer than
three important geographical localities after him, namely, Mount Darwin
and Darwin Sound (Tierra del Fuego), and Port Darwin in North Australia,
thus connecting his name for future generations with two lands whose
inhabitants were subjects of Darwin's unceasing interest and
investigation throughout life, and served in no small degree to
elucidate the history and rise of mankind in Darwin's mind and for a
world's instruction. Fitzroy complimented his friend markedly when
himself receiving the medal of the Royal Geographical Society; and in
one of his papers, speaking of him as a zealous volunteer in the cause
of science, observed that his perseverance might be estimated from the
fact that he never ceased to be a martyr to sea-sickness; while his
interest in science and his public spirit were evident from his having
presented his valuable collections to the public.
The concluding pages of the Journal are both eloquent and instructive.
Everywhere there had been fascinating visions, and attractive problems
remained unsolved. Was it not significant of future studies that the
contrast between barbarian and civilised man should have been so
impressed upon the future author of "The Descent of Man"? He writes thus
on this subject, "Of individual objects, perhaps no one is more certain
to create astonishment than the first sight in his native haunt of a
real barbarian, of man in his lowest and most savage state. One's mind
hurries back over past centuries, and then asks, could our progenitors
have been such as these? Men, whose very signs and expressions are less
intelligible to us than those of the domesticated animals; men, who do
not possess the instinct of those animals, nor yet appear to boast of
human reason, or at least of arts consequent on that reason. I do not
believe it is possible to describe or paint the difference between
savage and civilised man. It is the difference between a wild and tame
animal: and part of the interest in beholding a savage, is the same
which would lead every one to desire to see the lion in his desert, the
tiger tearing his prey in the jungle, the rhinoceros on the wide plain,
or the hippopotamus wallowing in the mud of some African river."
We have dwelt thus at length upon the history of this eventful voyage,
not only because it filled an important space in Darwin's life, but also
because it undoubtedly gave rise to the thoughts and speculations which
impelled him to devote his life to the study of problems of evolution.
It has been shown to some extent, how he saw, without pre-arrangement,
just those phenomena which could stimulate his mind, already fit, to its
highest flights. We have seen, too, how universal was Darwin's interest
in nature, and how sympathetic a heart went with his scientific insight.
He had yet to show how masterly was his patience, to work for yet twenty
years, in order that he might not by premature publication of a crude
theory risk defeat and throw science backward rather than forward. This
long patient work was to be the triumph of his genius.
FOOTNOTES:
[3: This statement by Darwin disposes of Mr. Grant Allen's
assertion that geology was Darwin's "first love" (p. 36). He reckoned
himself an entomologist when he went to Cambridge, and certainly Mr.
Ainsworth's statement shows that he was a naturalist in a wide sense
while at Edinburgh. C. V. Riley, the well-known American entomologist,
says (Proceedings of the Biological Society of Washington, U.S., vol.
i., 1882, p. 70) "I have the authority of my late associate editor of
_The American Entomologist_, Benjamin Dann Walsh, who was a class-mate
of Darwin's at Cambridge, that the latter's love of natural history was
chiefly manifested, while there, in a fine collection of insects."
Indeed, he was one of the original members of the Entomological Society
of London, founded in 1833, and showed an active interest in its affairs
throughout life, being elected a member of its council in 1838. As early
as January 4, 1836, a memoir based on insects sent home by Darwin from
Chiloe, was read before the Society by Charles Babington, now Professor
of Botany at Cambridge.]
[4: Mr. Grant Allen ("Darwin," p. 42) states that Darwin
observed sixty-seven distinct organic forms in the fine dust which fell
on deck. It was Ehrenberg who determined these organisms in dust sent to
him by Darwin, and four out of five of the packets of dust sent to
Ehrenberg were given to Darwin by Lyell (Darwin's Journal, second
edition, p. 5).]