'They considered some of my doctrines startling enough, but could not find that they were come by otherwise than in a straightforward manner, and (as I appeared to think) logically deducible from the facts, so that whether the facts were true or not, or my conclusions logical or otherwise, there was no reason to infer that I had made my theory from any hostile feeling towards revelation[61].'

The appointment was, in the end, made with only one dissentient, and it is pleasing to find that Conybeare, the most determined opponent of Lyell's evolutionary views, was extremely active in his efforts in his support. The result was equally honourable to all parties, and affords a pleasing proof of the fact that in the half century which had elapsed since the persecution of Priestley and Hutton, theological rancour must have greatly declined. But while the reception of the Principles of Geology by the general public was of such a generally satisfactory character, Lyell had to acknowledge that his reasoning had but little effect in modifying the views of his distinguished contemporaries in the Geological Society.

The admiration felt for the author's industry and skill, in the collection and marshalling of facts and of the observations made by him in his repeated travels, were eloquently expressed by the generous Sedgwick, as follows:—

'Were I to tell "the author" of the instruction I received from every chapter of his work, and of the delight with which I rose from the perusal of the whole, I might seem to flatter rather than to speak the language of sober criticism; but I should only give utterance to my honest sentiments. His work has already taken, and will long maintain a distinguished place in the philosophic literature of this country[62].'

Nevertheless, in the same address to the Geological Society, in which these words were spoken, Sedgwick goes on to argue forcibly against the doctrine of continuity, and to assert his firm belief in the occurrence of frequent interruptions of the geological record by great convulsions.

Whewell was equally enthusiastic with Sedgwick, concerning the value of the body of facts collected by Lyell, declaring that he had established a new branch of science, 'Geological Dynamics'; but he also believed with Sedgwick, that the evolutionary doctrine was as obnoxious to true science as he thought it was to Scripture.

These were the views of all the great leaders of geological science at that day, and in 1834, after the completion of the Principles, when a great discussion took place in the Geological Society on the subject of the effects ascribed by him to existing causes, Lyell says that 'Buckland, De la Beche, Sedgwick, Whewell, and some others treated them with as much ridicule as was consistent with politeness in my presence[63].'

It is interesting to be able to infer from Lyell's accounts of these days, that the sagacious De la Beche was beginning to weaken in his opposition to evolutionary views, and that Fitton and John Phillips were inclined to support him, but neither of them was ready to come forward boldly as the champions of unpopular opinions. John Herschel, who sympathised with Lyell in all his opinions, was absent at the Cape, Scrope was absorbed in the stormy politics of that day, and it was not till Darwin returned from his South American voyage in 1838, that Lyell found any staunch supporter in the frequent lively debates at the Geological Society.

It is pleasing, however, to relate that this strong opposition to his theoretical teachings, did not lessen the esteem, or interfere with the friendship, felt for Lyell by his contemporaries. During all this time he held the office of Foreign Secretary to the Society, and in 1835 was elected President, retaining the office for two years.

The general feeling of the old geologists with respect to Lyell's opinions was very exactly expressed by Professor Henslow, when in parting from young Darwin on his setting out on his voyage, he referred to the recently published first volume of the Principles in the following terms:—

'Take Lyell's new book with you and read it by all means, for it is very interesting, but do not pay any attention to it, except in regard to facts, for it is altogether wild as far as theory goes.'

(I quote the words as repeated to me by Darwin, in a conversation I had with him on August 7th, 1880, of which I made a note at the time. Darwin has himself referred to this conversation with Henslow in his autobiography[64].)

Except in a few cases, this was the attitude maintained by all the old geologists who were Lyell's contemporaries. Even as late as 1895 we find the amiable Prestwich protesting strongly against 'the Fetish of uniformity[65],' and I well remember about the same time being solemnly warned by a geologist of the old school against 'poor old Lyell's fads.'

It was not, indeed, till a new generation of geologists had arisen, including Godwin-Austen, Edward Forbes, Ramsay, Jukes, Darwin, Hooker and Huxley, that the real value and importance of Lyell's teaching came to be recognised and acknowledged.

The most important influence of Lyell's great work is seen, however, in the undoubted fact that it inspired the men, who became the leaders in the revolution of thought which took place a quarter of a century later in respect to the organic world. Were I to assert that if the Principles of Geology had not been written, we should never have had the Origin of Species, I think I should not be going too far: at all events, I can safely assert, from several conversations I had with Darwin, that he would have most unhesitatingly agreed in that opinion.

Darwin's devotion to his 'dear master' as he used to call Lyell, was of the most touching character, and it was prominently manifested in all his geological conversations. In his books and in his letters he never failed to express his deep indebtedness to his 'own true love' as he called the Principles of Geology. In what was Darwin's own most favourite work, the Narrative of the Voyage of the Beagle, he wrote 'To Charles Lyell, Esq., F.R.S., this second edition is dedicated with grateful pleasure, as an acknowledgment 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, admirable Principles of Geology.'

How Lyell's first volume inspired Darwin with his passion for geological research, and how his second volume was one of the determining causes in turning his mind in the direction of Evolution, we shall see in the sequel. In 1844, Darwin wrote to Leonard Horner how 'forcibly impressed I am with the infinite superiority of the Lyellian School of Geology over the continental,' he even says, 'I always feel as if my books came half out of Lyell's brain'; adding 'I have always thought that the great merit of the Principles was that it altered the whole tone of one's mind, and therefore that, when seeing a thing never seen by Lyell one yet saw it partially through his eyes[66].' About the same time Darwin wrote, 'I am much pleased to hear of the call for a new edition of the Principles: what glorious good that work has done[67]!' And in the Origin of Species he gives his deliberate verdict on the book, referring to it as 'Lyell's grand work on the Principles of Geology, which the future historian will recognise as having produced a revolution in Natural Science[68].'

Darwin seemed always afraid, such was his sensitive and generous nature, that he did not sufficiently acknowledge his indebtedness to Lyell. He wrote to his friend in 1845:

'I have long wished not so much for your sake as for my own feelings of honesty, to acknowledge more plainly than by mere reference, how much I geologically owe you. Those authors, however, who like you educate people's minds as well as teach them special facts, can never, I should think, have full justice done them except by posterity, for the mind thus insensibly improved can hardly perceive its own upward ascent.'

Very heartily, as I can bear witness from long intercourse with him, was this deep affection of Darwin reciprocated by the man who was addressed by him in his letters as 'Your affectionate pupil.' But a stranger who conversed with Lyell would have thought that he was the junior and a disciple; so profound was his reverence for the genius of Darwin.

There can be no doubt that Lyell's extreme caution in statement, and his candour in admitting and replying to objections, had much to do with his acquirement of that authority with general, no less than with scientific, readers, which he so long enjoyed. In his candour he resembled his friend Darwin; but his caution was carried so far that, even after full conviction had entered his mind on a subject, he would still hesitate to avow that conviction. He was always obsessed by a feeling that there still might be objections, which he had not foreseen and met, and therefore felt it unsafe to declare himself. No doubt the peculiarly trying circumstances under which his work was written—a seemingly hopeless protest against ideas held unswervingly by teachers and fellow-workers—led to the creation in him of this habit of mind.

Darwin, with all his candour, was of a far more sanguine and optimistic temperament than Lyell, and the difference between them, in this respect, often comes out in their correspondence.

Thus Darwin, from the horrors he had witnessed in South America, had come to entertain a most fanatical hatred of slavery—his abhorrence of which he used to express in most unmeasured terms. Lyell, in his travels in the Southern United States, was equally convinced of the undesirability of the institution; but he thought it just to state the grounds on which it was defended, by those who had been his hosts in the Slave-states. Even this, however, was too much for Darwin, and he felt that he must 'explode' to his friend 'How could you relate so placidly that atrocious sentiment' (it was of course only quoted by Lyell) '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 (that is not to write about the matter), so no more of this odious deadly subject[69].'

It was just the same in their mode of viewing scientific questions. Thus in 1838, while they were in the midst of the fierce battle with the 'Old Guard' at the Geological Society, Lyell wrote to his brother-in-arms as follows:—

'I really find, when bringing up my Preliminary Essays in Principles to the science of the present day, so far as I know it, that the great outline, and even most of the details, stand so uninjured, and in many cases they are so much strengthened by new discoveries, especially by yours, that we may begin to hope that the great principles there insisted on will stand the test of new discoveries[70].'

To which the younger and more ardent Darwin warmly replied:—

'Begin to hope: why, the possibility of a doubt has never crossed my mind for many a day. This may be very unphilosophical, but my geological salvation is staked on it ... it makes me quite indignant that you should talk of hoping[71].'

When talking with Lyell at this time about the opposition of the old school of geologists to their joint views, Darwin said, 'What a good thing it would be if every scientific man was to die at sixty years old, as afterwards he would be sure to oppose all new doctrines[72].'

In conversations that I had with him late in life, Darwin several times remarked to me, that 'he had seen so many of his friends make fools of themselves by putting forward new theoretical views in their old age, that he had resolved quite early in life, never to publish any speculative opinions after he was sixty.' But both in conversation and in his writings he always maintained that Lyell was an exception to all such rules, seeing that at last he adopted the theory of Natural Selection in his old age, thus displaying the most 'remarkable candour.'

All who had the pleasure of discussing geological questions with Lyell will recognise the truth of the portrait drawn of his old friend by Darwin, about a year before his own death.

He says:—

'His mind was characterised, as it appeared to me, by clearness, caution, sound judgment, and a good deal of originality. When I made a remark to him on Geology, he never rested until he saw the whole case clearly, and often made me see it more clearly than I had done before.'

And he sums up his admiration of the 'dear old master' in the words

'The science of Geology is enormously indebted to Lyell—more so, as I believe, than to any other man who ever lived[73].'

Alfred Russel Wallace is scarcely less emphatic than Charles Darwin himself in his expression of affection and admiration for Lyell, and his indebtedness to the Principles of Geology.

In his Autobiography, Wallace writes:—

'With Sir Charles I soon felt at home, owing to his refined and gentle manners, his fund of quiet humour, and his intense love and extensive knowledge of natural science. His great liberality of thought and wide general interests were also attractive to me; and although when he had once arrived at a definite conclusion, he held by it very tenaciously until a considerable body of well-ascertained facts could be adduced against it, yet he was always willing to listen to the arguments of his opponents, and to give them careful and repeated consideration[74].'

Of the influence of the Principles of Geology in leading him to evolution, he wrote:

'Along with Malthus I had read, and been even more deeply impressed by, Sir Charles Lyell's immortal Principles of Geology; which had taught me that the inorganic world—the whole surface of the earth, its seas and lands, its mountains and valleys, its rivers and lakes, and every detail of its climatic conditions—were and always had been in a continual state of slow modification. Hence it became obvious that the forms of life must have become continually adjusted to these changed conditions in order to survive. The succession of fossil remains throughout the whole geological series of rocks is the record of the change; and it became easy to see that the extreme slowness of these changes was such as to allow ample opportunity for the continuous automatic adjustment of the organic to the inorganic world, as well as of each organism to every other organism in the same area, by the simple processes of "variation and survival of the fittest." Thus was the fundamental idea of the "origin of species" logically formulated from the consideration of a series of well ascertained facts[75].'

Nor were the two men (who, like Aaron and Hur so steadily sustained the hands of Darwin in his long vigil), behind the two authors of Natural Selection themselves in their devotion to Lyell. How touching is Hooker's tribute of affection on the death of his friend, 'My loved, my best friend, for well nigh forty years of my life. To me the blank is fearful, for it never will, never can be filled up. The most generous sharer of my own and my family's hopes, joys, and sorrows, whose affection for me was truly that of a father and brother combined[76].'

And Huxley speaking of Lyell, the day after his death said, 'Sir Charles Lyell would be known in history as the greatest geologist of his time. Some days ago I went to my venerable friend, and put before him the results of the Challenger expedition. Nothing could then have been more touching than the conflict between the mind and the material body, the brain clear and comprehending all; while the lips could hardly express the views which the busy mind formed[77].'

How well do I recollect my last visit to Lyell a day or two after this farewell interview with Huxley, the glow of gratitude which lighted up the noble features as with trembling lips he told me how 'Huxley had repeated his whole Royal Institution lecture at his bedside.'

Huxley was a most devoted student of Lyell. Speaking to his fellow geologists in 1869 he said, 'Which of us has not thumbed every page of the Principles of Geology[78]?' and writing in 1887 on the reception of the Origin of Species, he said:—

'I have recently read afresh the first edition of the Principles of Geology; and when I consider that this remarkable book had been nearly thirty years in everybody's hands, and that it brings home to any reader of ordinary intelligence a great principle and a great fact—the principle, that the past must be explained by the present, unless good cause be shown to the contrary; and the fact, that, so far as our knowledge of the past history of life on our globe goes, no such cause can be shown—I cannot but believe that Lyell, for others, as for myself, was the chief agent in smoothing the road for Darwin. For consistent uniformitarianism postulates evolution as much in the organic as in the inorganic world. The origin of a new species by other than ordinary agencies would be a vastly greater 'catastrophe' than any of those which Lyell successfully eliminated from sober geological speculation[79].'

How strongly Lyell had become convinced, as early as 1832, of the truth and importance of the doctrine of Evolution—in the organic as well as in the inorganic world—in spite of his emphatic rejection of the theory of Lamarck, we shall show in the next chapter. It was this conviction, as we shall see, which led to his friendly encouragement of Darwin in his persevering investigations and to his constant solicitude that the results of his friend's labours should not be lost through delay in their publication.

CHAPTER VIII

EARLY ATTEMPTS TO ESTABLISH THE DOCTRINE OF EVOLUTION FOR THE ORGANIC WORLD

In studying the history of Evolutionary ideas, it is necessary to keep in mind that there are two perfectly distinct lines of thought, the origin and development of which have to be considered.

First. The conviction that species are not immutable, but that, by some means or other, new forms of life are derived from pre-existing ones.

Secondly. The conception of some process or processes, by which this change of old forms into new ones may be explained.

Buffon, Kant, Goethe, and many other philosophic thinkers, have been more or less firmly persuaded of the truth of the first of these propositions; and even Linnaeus himself was ready to make admissions in this direction. It was impossible for anyone who was convinced of the truth of the doctrine of continuity or evolution in the inorganic world, to avoid the speculation that the same arguments by which the truth of that doctrine was maintained must apply also to the organic world.

Hence we find that directly the Principles of Geology was published, thinkers, like Sedgwick and Whewell, at once taxed Lyell with holding that 'the creation of new species is going on at the present day,' and Lyell replied to the latter:—

'It was impossible, I think, for anyone to read my work and not to perceive that my notion of uniformity in the existing causes of change always implied that they must for ever produce an endless variety of effects, both in the animate and inanimate world[80].'

And to Sedgwick, Lyell wrote:—

'Now touching my opinion,' concerning the creation of new species at the present day, 'I have no right to object, as I really entertain it, to your controverting it; at the same time you will see, on reading my chapter on the subject, that I have studiously avoided laying down the doctrine dogmatically as capable of proof. I have admitted that we have only data for extinction, and I have left it to be inferred, instead of enunciating it even as my opinion, that the place of lost species is filled up (as it was of old) from time to time by new species. I have only ventured to say that had new mammalia come in, we could hardly have hoped to verify the fact[81].'

That Lyell was convinced of the truth of the doctrine of the evolution of species is shown by his correspondence with friends and sympathisers like Scrope and John Herschel. But he wrote:

'If I had stated ... the possibility of the introduction or origination of fresh species being a natural, in contradistinction to a miraculous process, I should have raised a host of prejudices against me, which are unfortunately opposed at every step to any philosopher who attempts to address the public on these mysterious subjects[82].'

That Lyell was justified in not increasing the difficulties which would retard the reception of his views, by introducing matter, which he still regarded as of a more or less speculative character, I think everyone will be prepared to admit. Darwin had to contend with the same difficulty in writing the Origin of Species. To have included the question of the origin of mankind prominently in that work would have raised an almost insurmountable barrier to its reception. He says in his autobiography, 'I thought it best, in order that no honourable man should accuse me of concealing my views, to add that by the work "light would be thrown on the origin of man and his history." It would have been useless and injurious to the success of the book to have paraded, without giving evidence, my conviction with respect to his origin[83].'

Huxley and Haeckel have both borne testimony to the fact that Lyell, at the time he wrote the Principles, was firmly convinced that new species had originated by evolution from old ones. Indeed in a letter to John Herschel in 1836 he goes very far in the direction of anticipating the lines in which enquiries on the method of evolution must proceed, having even a prevision of the doctrine of mimicry, long afterwards established by Bates and others. Lyell wrote:—

'In regard to the origination of new species, I am very glad to find that you think it probable that it may be carried on through the intervention of intermediate causes. I left this rather to be inferred, not thinking it worth while to offend a certain class of persons by embodying in words what would only be a speculation.... One can in imagination summon before us a small part at least of the circumstances that must be contemplated and foreknown, before it can be decided what powers and qualities a new species must have in order to enable it to endure for a given time, and to play its part in due relation to all other beings destined to coexist with it, before it dies out.... It may be seen that unless some slight additional precaution be taken, the species about to be born would at a certain era be reduced to too low a number. There may be a thousand modes of ensuring its duration beyond that time; one, for example, may be the rendering it more prolific, but this would perhaps make it press too hard upon other species at other times. Now if it be an insect it may be made in one of its transformations to resemble a dead stick, or a leaf, or a lichen, or a stone, so as to be somewhat less easily found by its enemies; or if this would make it too strong, an occasional variety of the species may have this advantage conferred on it; or if this would be still too much, one sex of a certain variety. Probably there is scarcely a dash of colour on the wing or body of which the choice would be quite arbitrary, or which might not affect its duration for thousands of years. I have been told that the leaf-like expansions of the abdomen and thighs of a certain Brazilian Mantis turn from green to yellow as autumn advances, together with the leaves of plants among which it seeks its prey. Now if species come in succession, such contrivances must sometimes be made, and such relations predetermined between species, as the Mantis, for example, and plants not then existing, but which it was foreseen would exist together with some particular climate at a given time. But I cannot do justice to this train of speculation in a letter, and will only say that it seems to me to offer a more beautiful subject for reasoning and reflecting on, than the notion of great batches of new species all coming in and afterwards going out at once[84].'

We have cited this very remarkable passage, as it affords striking evidence of how deeply Lyell had thought on this great question at a very early period. Nevertheless it is certain that when he wrote the second volume of the Principles, he had not been able to satisfy himself that any hypothesis of the mode of evolution, that had up to that time been suggested, could be regarded as satisfactory.

The only serious attempt to explain the derivation of new species from old ones that came before Lyell was that of the illustrious Lamarck.

Very noteworthy was the work of that old wounded French soldier, afflicted in his later years as he was by blindness. By his early labours, Lamarck had attained a considerable reputation as a botanist, and later in life he turned his attention to zoology, and then to palaeontology and geology. In zoology, he did for the study of invertebrate animals what his great contemporary Cuvier was accomplishing for the vertebrates; but, with regard to the origin of species, he arrived at conclusions directly at variance with those of his distinguished rival.

We are indebted to Professor Osborn[85] for calling attention to that remarkable, but little known work of Lamarck's—Hydrogéologie—published in 1802, seven years before his Philosophie Zoologique appeared. This work is especially interesting as showing to how great an extent—as in the case of Darwin, Wallace and others—it was geological phenomena which played an important part in leading Lamarck to evolutionary convictions. "In Geology," Professor Osborn writes,

'Lamarck was an ardent advocate of uniformity, as against the Cataclysmal School. The main principles are laid down in his Hydrogéologie, that all the revolutions of the earth are extremely slow. "For Nature," he says, "time is nothing. It is never a difficulty, she always has it at her disposal; and it is for her the means by which she has accomplished the greatest as well as the least results[86]."'

On the subject of subaerial denudation (the action of rain and rivers in wearing down the earth's surface), Lamarck's views were as clear and definite as those of Hutton himself; though it is almost certain that he could never have seen, or even heard of, the writings of the great Scottish philosopher. On some other questions of geological dynamics, however, it must be confessed that Lamarck's views and speculations were rather crude and unsatisfactory.

In his Philosophie Zoologique, published in the same year that Charles Darwin was born (1809), Lamarck brought forward a great body of evidence in favour of evolution, derived from his extensive knowledge of botany, zoology and geology. He showed how complete was the gradation between many forms ranked as species, and how difficult it was to say what forms should be classed as 'varieties' and what as 'species.'

But when he came to indicate a possible method by which one species might be derived from another, he was less happy in his suggestions. He recognised the value of the evidence derived from the study of the races which have arisen among domestic animals, and from the crossing of different forms. But his main argument was derived from the acknowledged fact that use or disuse may cause the development or the partial atrophy of organs—the case of the 'blacksmith's arm.' Unfortunately some of the suggestions made by Lamarck, in this connexion—like that of the elongation of the giraffe's neck to enable it to browse on high trees—were of a kind that made them very susceptible to ridicule. His theory was of course dependent on the admission that acquired characters were transmitted from parents to children, and in the absence of any suggestion of 'selection,' it did not appeal strongly to thinkers on this question.

Lyell first became acquainted with the writings of Lamarck in 1827. As he was returning from the Oxford circuit for the last time—having now resolved to give up law and devote himself to geological work exclusively—he wrote to his friend Mantell as follows:—

'I devoured Lamarck en voyage.... His theories delighted me more than any novel I ever read, and much in the same way, for they address themselves to the imagination, at least of geologists who know the mighty inferences which would be deducible were they established by observations. But though I admire even his flights, and feel none of the odium theologicum which some modern writers in this country have visited him with, I confess I read him rather as I hear an advocate on the wrong side, to know what can be made of the case in good hands. I am glad he has been courageous enough and logical enough to admit that his argument, if pushed as far as it must go, if worth anything, would prove that men may have come from the Ourang-Outang. But after all, what changes species may really undergo! How impossible will it be to distinguish and lay down a line, beyond which some of the so-called extinct species have never passed into recent ones. That the earth is quite as old as he supposes, has long been my creed, and I will try before six months are over to convert the readers of the Quarterly to that heterodox opinion[87].'

Lyell was at that time at work on his review for the Quarterly of Scrope's Central France, and was also completing the 'first sketch' of the Principles. But it is evident that as the result of continued study of Lamarck's book, Lyell found it, in spite of its fascination, to embody a theory which he could not but regard as unsound and not calculated to prove a solution of the great mystery of evolution. Accordingly when the second volume of the Principles was issued in 1832, it was found to contain in its opening chapters a very trenchant criticism of Lamarck's theory.

It is only fair to remember, however, that in 1863, after Lyell had accepted the theory of Natural Selection he wrote to Darwin:

'When I came to the conclusion that after all Lamarck was going to be shown to be right, and that we must "go the whole orang" I re-read his book, and remembering when it was written, I felt I had done him injustice[88].'

It is interesting also to notice that Darwin, like Lyell, gradually came to entertain a higher opinion of the merit of Lamarck's works, than he did on his first perusal of them. In 1844, Darwin wrote to Hooker, 'Heaven forfend me from Lamarck nonsense!' and in the same year he speaks of Lamarck's book as 'veritable rubbish,' an 'absurd though clever work[89].' When, after the publication of the Origin of Species, Lyell referred to the conclusions arrived at in that work as similar to those of Lamarck, Darwin expressed something like indignation, and he wrote to their 'mutual friend' Hooker, 'I have grumbled a bit in my answer to him' (Lyell) 'at his always classing my book as a modification of Lamarck's, which it is no more than any author who did not believe in the immutability of species[90].' In this case, as is so frequently seen in the writings of Darwin, it is evident that he attaches infinitely less importance to the establishment of the fact of the evolution of species, than to the demonstration of a possible mode of origin of that evolution. But that later in life Darwin came to take a more indulgent view of the result of Lamarck's labours is shown by a passage in his 'Historical Sketch' prefixed to the Origin, in 1866. Lamarck, he says, 'first did the eminent service of arousing attention to the probability of all change in the organic world, as well as in the inorganic world, being the result of law and not of miraculous interposition[91].'

In the opinion of Dr Schwalbe and others there are indications in Darwin's later writings that he had come into much closer relation with the views of Lamarck, than was the case when he wrote the Origin[92].

It is interesting, however, to note that Erasmus Darwin, the grandfather of Charles, published independently and contemporaneously, views on the nature and causes of evolution in striking agreement with those of Lamarck; but perhaps the poetical form, in which he chose to embody his ideas, led to their receiving less attention than they deserved.

As is now well known a number of writers during the earlier years of the nineteenth century published statements in favour of evolutionary views, and in several cases the theory of natural selection was more or less distinctly outlined. In addition to Geoffroy and Isidore Saint Hilaire and d'Omalius d'Halloy on the continent, a number of writers in this country, such as Dr Wells, Mr Patrick Matthew, Dr Pritchard, Professor Grant, Dean Herbert, all expressed views in favour of evolution, even, in some cases, foreshadowing Natural Selection as the method. But these authors attached so little importance to their suggestions, that they did not even take the trouble to place them on permanent record, and it is certain that neither Lyell nor Darwin was acquainted with their writings at the time they were themselves working at the subject.

There was indeed one work which, during the time that the Origin of Species was in preparation, attracted much popular attention. In 1844, Robert Chambers, who was favourably known as the author of some geological papers, wrote a book which excited a great amount of attention—the well-known Vestiges of Creation. This work was a very bold pronouncement of evolutionary views. Beginning with a statement of the nebular hypothesis of Kant and Laplace, it discussed the question of the origin of life—when life became possible on a cooling globe—and, arguing strongly in favour of the view that all plants and animals, as the conditions under which they existed change, had given rise to new forms, better adapted to their environment, insisted that the whole living creation had been gradually developed from the simplest types.

Chambers published his book anonymously, being naturally afraid of the prejudices that would be excited against him—especially in his own country—by a work so outspoken, and it was not till after his death that its authorship was definitely known.

The Vestiges of Creation met with very different receptions at the hands of the general public and from the scientific world, at the time it was published. The former were startled but captivated by its fearless statements and suggestive lines of thought; while the latter were repelled and incensed by the want of judgment, too frequently shown, in accepting as indisputable, facts and experiments which really rested on a very slender basis or none at all. So popular was the book, however, that it passed through twelve editions, the last being published after the appearance of the Origin of Species.

It is interesting to read Darwin's judgment in later life on this once famous book; he says:

'The work from its powerful and brilliant style, though displaying in the earlier editions little accurate knowledge and a great want of scientific caution, immediately had a very wide circulation. In my opinion it has done excellent service in this country in calling attention to the subject, in removing prejudice, and in thus preparing the ground for the reception of analogous views[93].'

If we enquire what was the attitude of scientific naturalists towards the doctrine of Evolution, immediately before the occurrence of the events to be recorded in the next chapter, we shall find some diversity of opinion to exist. The late Professor Newton, an eminent ornithologist, has asserted that, at this period, many systematic zoologists and botanists had begun to feel great 'searchings of heart' as to the possibility of maintaining what were the generally prevalent views concerning the reality and immutability of species. Huxley, however, declared that he and many contemporary biologists were ready to say 'to Mosaists and Evolutionists a plague to both your houses!' and were disposed to turn aside from an interminable and fruitless discussion, to labour in the fields of ascertainable fact[94].

CHAPTER IX

DARWIN AND WALLACE: THE THEORY OF NATURAL SELECTION

Charles Darwin was the grandson of Erasmus Darwin, who, as we have seen, arrived independently at conclusions concerning the origin of species very similar to those of Lamarck, and embodied his views in poems, which, at the time of their publication, achieved a considerable popularity. In the younger philosopher, however, imagination was always kept in subjection by a determination to 'prove all things' and 'to hold fast that which is good'; though, in other respects, there were not wanting indications of the existence of hereditary characteristics in the grandson.

Born at Shrewsbury and educated in the public school of that town, Charles Darwin from the first exhibited signs of individuality in his ideas and his tastes. The rigid classical teaching of his school did not touch him, but, with the aid of his elder brother, he surreptitiously started a chemical laboratory in a garden tool-house. From his earliest infancy he was a collector, first of trifles, like seals and franks, but later of stones, minerals and beetles.

At the outset, only the desire to possess new things animated him, then a wish to put names to them, but, at a very early period, a passion arose for learning all he could about them. Thus when only 9 or 10 years of age, he had 'a desire of being able to know something about every pebble in front of the hall-door,' and at 13 or 14, when he heard the remark of a local naturalist, 'that the world would come to an end before anyone would be able to explain how' a boulder (the 'bell-stone' of local-fame) came to be brought from distant hills—the lad had such a deep impression made on his mind, that he says in after life, 'I meditated over this wonderful stone[95].'

At the age of 16, he was sent to Edinburgh University to prepare himself for the work of a doctor—the profession of his father and grandfather. But here his independence of character again asserted itself. He found most of the lectures 'intolerably dull,' so he occupied himself with other pursuits, making many friendships among the younger naturalists and doing a little in the way of biological research himself.

That he was not altogether destitute of ambition in the eyes of his companions, however, is, I think, indicated by an amusing circumstance. In the library of Charles Darwin, which is carefully preserved at Cambridge, there is a copy of Jameson's Manual of Mineralogy, published in 1821, which was evidently used by the young student in his classwork at Edinburgh. In this a quizzical fellow-student has written 'Charles Darwin Esq., M.D., F.R.S.'—mischievously adding 'A.S.S.'! Even for geology, the science to which in all his after life he became so deeply devoted, young Darwin conceived the most violent aversion; and as he listened to Jameson's Wernerian outpourings at Salisbury Crags, he 'determined never to attend to geology,' registering the terrible vow 'never as long as I lived to read a book on Geology, or in any way to study the science[96].'

As it became evident that Charles Darwin would never make a doctor, his father, after two years' trial, sent him to Cambridge with the object of his qualifying for a clergyman. But at Christ's College, in that University, he again took his own line—which was not that of divinity—riding, shooting and beetle-hunting being his chief delights. Nevertheless, at Cambridge as at Edinburgh, he seems to have shown an appreciation for good and instructive society, and in Henslow, the judicious and amiable Professor of Botany, the young fellow found such sympathy and kindly help that he came to be distinguished as 'the man who walks with Henslow[97].'

After achieving a 'pass degree,' Darwin went back to the University for an extra term, and by the advice of Henslow began to 'think about' the despised Science of Geology. He was introduced to that inspiring teacher, Sedgwick, with whom he made a geological excursion into Wales; but though he said he 'worked like a tiger' at geology, yet he, when he got the chance of shooting on his uncle's estate, had to make the confession, 'I should have thought myself mad to give up the first days of partridge-shooting for geology or any other science[98].'

There is a sentence in one of the letters written at this time which suggests that, even at this early period in his geological career, Darwin had begun to experience some misgivings concerning the catastrophic doctrines of his teachers and contemporaries. He says:—