Was he not poking fun at other hypotheses besides his own?

Darwin's real scientific education began when, after some hesitation on his father's part, he was allowed to accept the invitation, made to him through his friend Henslow, to accompany, at his own expense, the surveying ship Beagle in a cruise to South America and afterwards round the world. In the narrow quarters of the little 'ten-gun brig,' he learned methodical habits and how best to economise space and time; during his long expeditions on shore, rendered possible by the work of a surveying vessel, he had ample opportunities for observing and collecting; and, above all, the absence of the distractions from quiet meditation, afforded by a long sea-voyage, proved in his case invaluable. Very diligently did he work, accumulating a vast mass of notes, with catalogues of the specimens he sent home from time to time to Henslow. He had received no careful biological training, and Huxley considered that the voluminous notes he made on zoological subjects were almost useless[100]. Very different was the case, however, with his geological notes. He had learned to use the blowpipe, and simple microscope, as well as his hammer and clinometer; and the notes which he made concerning his specimens, before packing them up for Cambridge, were at the same time full, accurate and suggestive.

Darwin has recorded in his autobiography the wonderful effect produced on his mind by the reading of the first volume of Lyell's Principles—an effect very different from that anticipated by Henslow[101]. From that moment he became the most enthusiastic of geologists, and never fails in his letters to insist on his preference for geology over all other branches of science. Again and again we find him recording observations that he thinks will 'interest Mr Lyell' and he says in another letter:—

Before reaching home after his voyage, the duration of which was fortunately extended from two to five years, he had sent home letters asking to be elected a fellow of the Geological Society; and, immediately on his arrival, he gave up his zoological specimens to others and devoted his main energies for ten years to the working up of his geological notes and specimens.

It may seem strange that the grandson of Erasmus Darwin should in early life have felt little or no interest in the question of the 'Origin of Species,' but such was certainly the case. He tells us in his autobiography that he had read his grandfather's Zoonomia in his youth, without its producing any effect on him, and when at Edinburgh he says he heard his friend Robert Grant (afterwards Professor of Zoology in University College, London) as they were walking together 'burst forth in high admiration of Lamarck and his views on Evolution'—yet Darwin adds 'I listened in silent astonishment, and as far as I can judge without any effect on my mind[103].'

The reason of this indifference towards his grandfather's works is obvious. All through his life, Darwin, like Lyell, showed a positive distaste for all speculation or theorising that was not based on a good foundation of facts or observations. In this respect, the attitude of Darwin's mind was the very opposite of that of Herbert Spencer—who, Huxley jokingly said, would regard as a 'tragedy'—'the killing of a beautiful theory by an ugly fact.' Darwin tells us himself that, while on his first reading of Zoonomia he 'greatly admired' it—evidently on literary grounds—yet 'on reading it a second time after an interval of ten or fifteen years, I was much disappointed; the proportion of speculation being so large to the facts given.' Huxley who knew Charles Darwin so well in later years said of him that:—

What then, we may ask, were the facts and observations which turned Darwin's mind towards the great problem that came to be the work of his after life? I think it is possible from the study of his letters and other published writings to give an answer to this very interesting question.

In November 1832, Darwin returned to Monte Video, from a long journey in the interior of the South American Continent, bringing with him many zoological specimens and a great quantity of fossil bones, teeth and scales, dug out by him with infinite toil from the red mud of the Pampas—these fossils evidently belonging to the geological period that immediately preceded that of the existing creation. The living animals represented in his collection were all obviously very distinct from those of Europe—consisting of curious sloths, anteaters, and armadilloes—the so-called 'Edentata' of naturalists. And when young Darwin came to examine and compare his fossil bones, teeth and scales he found that they too must have belonged to animals (megatherium, mylodon, glyptodon, etc.) quite distinct from but of strikingly similar structure to those now living in South America. What could be the meaning of this wonderful analogy? If Cuvier and his fellow Catastrophists were correct in their view that, at each 'revolution' taking place on the earth's surface, the whole batch of plants and animals was swept out of existence, and the world was restocked with a 'new creation,' why should the brand-new forms, at any particular locality, have such a 'ghost-like' resemblance to those that had gone before? It is interesting to note that, just at the same time, a similar discovery was made with respect to Australia. In caves in that country, a number of bones were found which, though evidently belonging to 'extinct' animals, yet must have belonged to forms resembling the kangaroos and other 'pouched animals' (marsupials) now so distinctive of that continent. But of this fact Darwin was not aware until after his return to England in 1836.

Among the objects sent from home, which awaited Darwin on his return to Monte Video, was the second volume of Lyell's Principles, then newly published; this book, while rejecting Lamarckism, was crowded with facts and observations concerning variation, hybridism, the struggle for existence, and many other questions bearing on the great problem of the origin of species. I think there can be no doubt that from this time Darwin came to regard the question of species with an interest he had never felt before.

It is of course not suggested that, at this early date, Darwin had formed any definite ideas as to the mode in which new species might possibly arise from pre-existing ones or even that he had been converted to a belief in evolution. Indeed in 1877 he wrote 'When I was on board the Beagle I believed in the permanence of species' yet he adds 'but as far as I can remember vague doubts occasionally flitted across my mind.' Such 'vague doubts' could scarcely have failed to have arisen when, as happened during all his journeys from north to south of the South American Continent, he found the same curious correspondence between existing and late fossil forms of life again and again illustrated.

But towards the end of the voyage, an even stronger element of doubt as to the immutability of species was awakened in his mind. When he came to study the forms of life existing in the Galapagos Islands, off the west coast of South America, he was startled by the discovery of the following facts. Each small island had its own 'fauna' or assemblage of animals—this being very strikingly shown in the case of the reptiles and birds. And yet, though the species were different, there was obviously a very wonderful 'family likeness' to one another between the forms in the several islands and between them all and the animals living in the adjoining portion of the continent. Surely this could not be accidental, but must indicate relationships due to descent from common ancestors!

Charles Darwin returned to England in 1836, and at once made the acquaintance of Lyell. He says in one place, 'I saw a great deal of Lyell' and in another that 'I saw more of Lyell than of any other man, both before and after my marriage.' In one of his letters he writes, 'You cannot conceive anything more thoroughly good natured than the heart-and-soul manner in which he put himself in my place and thought what would be best to do[105].' For two years Darwin was comparatively free from the distressing malady which clouded so much of his after life. And, during that time, he engaged very heartily with Lyell in those combats at the Geological Society (of which he had become one of the Secretaries) in which their joint views concerning the truth of continuity or evolution in the inorganic world were defended against the attacks of the militant catastrophists. Darwin, however, did not act on the defensive alone, but brought forward a number of papers strongly supporting his new friend's views.

There can be little doubt that, while thus engaged, and in constant friendly intercourse with Lyell, Darwin must have felt—like other earnest thinkers on geology at that day—that the principles they were advocating of 'continuity' in the inorganic world must be equally applicable to the organic world—and thus that the question of evolution would acquire a new interest for him.

But it was undoubtedly the revision of the notes made on board the Beagle, and the study of the specimens which had been sent home by him from time to time, that produced the great determining influence on Darwin's career. All through the voyage he had endeavoured, with as much literary skill as he could command, to record with accuracy the observations he made, and the conclusions to which, on careful reflection, they seemed to point. And on his return to England, these patiently written journals were revised and prepared for publication forming that charming work A Naturalist's Voyage. Journal of Researches into the Natural History and Geology of the Countries visited during the Voyage of H.M.S. 'Beagle' round the world.

As Darwin, with the specimens before him, revised his notes, and reconsidered the impressions made on his mind, the 'vague doubts' he had entertained, from time to time, concerning the immutability of species, would come back to him with new force and cumulative effect. 'I then saw,' he says, 'how many facts indicated the common descent of species,' and further, 'It occurred to me in 1837, that something might perhaps be made out on this question by patiently accumulating and reflecting on all sorts of facts which could possibly have any bearing on it.' In July of that year, he opened his first note-book on the subject[106]—the note-books being soon replaced by a series of portfolios, in which extracts from the various works he read, facts obtained by correspondence, the records of experiments and observation, and ideas suggested by constant meditation were slowly accumulated for twenty years. Mr Francis Darwin has published a series of extracts from the note-book of 1837, which amply prove that by this time Charles Darwin had become 'a convinced evolutionist[107].'

Fifteen months after this 'systematic enquiry' began, Darwin happened to read the celebrated work of Malthus On Population, for amusement, and this served as a spark falling on a long prepared train of thought. The idea that as animals and plants multiply in geometrical progression, while the supplies of food and space to be occupied remain nearly constant, and that this must lead to a 'struggle for existence' of the most desperate kind, was by no means new to Darwin, for the elder De Candolle, Lyell and others had enlarged upon it; yet the facts with regard to the human race, so strikingly presented by Malthus, brought the whole question with such vividness before him that the idea of 'Natural Selection' flashed upon Darwin's mind. This hypothesis cannot be better or more succinctly stated than in Huxley's words.

With characteristic caution, Darwin determined not to write down 'even the briefest sketch' of this hypothesis, that had so suddenly presented itself to his mind. His habit of thought was always to give the fullest consideration and weight to any possible objection that presented itself to his own mind or could be suggested to him by others. Though he was satisfied as to the truth and importance of the principle of natural selection, there is evidence that for some years he was oppressed by difficulties, which I think would have seemed greater to him than to anyone else. In my conversations with Darwin, in after years, it always struck me that he attached an exaggerated importance to the merest suggestion of a view opposed to that he was himself inclined to adopt; indeed I sometimes almost feared to indicate a possible different point of view to his own, for fear of receiving such an answer as 'What a very striking objection, how stupid of me not to see it before, I must really reconsider the whole subject.'

While a divinity student at Cambridge, Darwin had been much struck with the logical form of the works both of Euclid and of Paley. The rooms of the latter he seems to have actually occupied at Christ's College and the works of the great divine were so diligently studied that their deep influence remained with him in after life[109].

I think it must have been the remembrance of the arguments of Paley on the 'proofs of design' in Nature, that seem in after life to have haunted Darwin so that for long he failed to recognise fully that the principle of natural selection accounted not only for the adaptation of an organism to its environment, but at the same time explains that divergence, which must have taken place in species in order to give rise to their wonderfully varied characters.

It was not till long after he came to Down in 1842, he tells us in his autobiography, that his mind freed itself from this objection. He says:—

and he compares the relief to his mind as resembling the effect produced by 'Columbus and his egg[110].' Some may think the 'solution' of Columbus was itself not a very satisfactory one; and I am inclined to regard the difficulties of which Darwin records so sudden and dramatic a removal as more imaginary than real!

There can be no doubt that, as pointed out by the late Professor Alfred Newton[111], there was among naturalists during the second quarter of the nineteenth century a feeling of dissatisfaction with respect to current ideas concerning the origin of species, accompanied in many cases with one of expectation that a solution might soon be found. Others, however, despairingly regarded it as 'the mystery of mysteries' for which it was hopeless to attempt to find a key. There was, however, one man, who simultaneously with Darwin was meditating earnestly on the problem and who eventually reached the same goal.

Alfred Russel Wallace was born thirteen years after Darwin, and a quarter of a century after Lyell. He did not possess the moderate income that permits of entire devotion to scientific research—an advantage, the importance of which in their own cases, both Lyell and Darwin were always so ready to acknowledge. Wallace, after working for a time as a land-surveyor and then as a teacher, at the age of 26 set off with another naturalist, H. W. Bates, on a collecting tour in South America—hoping by the sale of specimens to cover the expenses of travel. Like Lyell and Darwin, he was an enthusiastic entomologist, and had conceived the same passion for travel. He had, as we have already seen, been deeply impressed by reading the Principles of Geology, and after spending four years in South America undertook a second collecting tour, which lasted twice that time, in the Malay Archipelago.

Before leaving England in 1848, Wallace had read and been impressed by reading the Vestiges of Creation, and there can be no doubt that from that period the question of evolution was always more or less distinctly present in his mind. While in Sarawak in the wet season, he tells us, 'I was quite alone with one Malay boy as cook, and during the evenings and wet days I had nothing to do but to look over my books and ponder over the problem which was rarely absent from my thoughts.' He goes on to say that by 'combining the ideas he had derived from his books that treated of the distribution of plants and animals with those he obtained from the great work of Lyell' he thought 'some valuable conclusions might be reached[112].' Thus originated the very remarkable paper, On the Law which has regulated the Introduction of New Species, the main conclusion of which was as follows: 'Every species has come into existence coincident both in space and time with a pre-existing closely allied species.' As Wallace has himself said, 'This clearly pointed to some kind of evolution ... but the how was still a secret.'

This essay was published in the Annals and Magazine of Natural History in September 1855. It attracted much attention from Lyell and Darwin and later from Huxley. One important result of it was that Darwin and Wallace entered into friendly correspondence. But although Darwin in his letters to Wallace informed him that he had been engaged for a long time in collecting facts which bore on the question of the origin of species, he gave no hint of the theory of natural selection he had conceived seventeen years before—indeed his friends Lyell and Hooker appear at that time to have been the only persons, outside his family circle, whom he had taken into his confidence.

In the spring of 1858, Wallace was at Ternate in the island of Celebes, where he lay sick with fever, and as his thoughts wandered to the ever-present problem of species, there suddenly recurred to his memory the writings of Malthus, which he had read twelve years before. Then and there, 'in a sudden flash of insight' the idea of natural selection presented itself to his mind, and after a few hours' thought the chief points were written down, and within a week the matter was 'copied on thin letter-paper' and sent to Darwin by the next post, with a letter to the following effect[113]. Wallace stated that the idea seemed new to himself and he asked Darwin, if he also thought it new, to show it to Lyell, who had taken so much interest in his former paper. Little did Wallace think, in the absence of all knowledge on his part of Darwin's own conclusions, what stir would be made by his paper when it arrived in England!

Wallace's essay was entitled On the Tendency of Varieties to depart indefinitely from the Original Type, and it is a singularly lucid and striking presentment, in small compass, of the theory of Natural Selection.

Had these two men been of less noble and generous nature, the history of science might have been dishonoured by a painful discussion on a question of priority. Fortunately we are not called upon for anything like a judicial investigation of rival claims; for Darwin as soon as he read the essay saw that—as Lyell had often warned him might be the case—he was completely forestalled in the publication of his theory. The letter and paper arrived at a sad time for Darwin—he was at the moment very ill, there was 'scarlet fever raging in his family, to which an infant son had succumbed on the previous day, and a daughter was ill with diphtheria[114].' Darwin at once wrote hurriedly to Lyell enclosing the essay and saying:

And Wallace—what was the line taken by him in the unfortunate complication that had thus arisen? From the very first his action was all that is generous and noble. Not only did he, from the first, entirely acquiesce in the course taken by Lyell and Hooker, but, writing in 1870, when the fame of Darwin's work had reached its full height, he said:—

And fifty years after the joint publication of the theory of Natural Selection to the Linnean Society he said:

And when he referred to the respective shares of Darwin and himself to the credit of having brought forward the theory of natural selection, he actually suggests as a fair proportion 'twenty years to one week'—those being the periods each had devoted to the subject[118]!

Never surely was such a noble example of personal abnegation! We admire the generosity, though we cannot accept the estimate, for do we not know that, for at least half the period of Darwin's patient quest, Wallace had spent in deeply pondering upon the same great question?

CHAPTER X

There are some striking passages in Darwin's naive 'autobiography and letters' which indicate the beginnings of his ambition for literary distinction. It must always be borne in mind in reading this autobiography, however, that it was not intended by Darwin for publication, but only for the amusement of the members of his own family. But the charming and unsophisticated self-revelations in it will always be a source of delight to the world.

When making his first original observations among the volcanic cones and craters of St Jago in the Cape-de-Verde Islands, he says 'It then first dawned on me that I might perhaps write a book on the geology of the different countries visited, and this made me thrill with delight[119].' He tells us concerning his regular occupations on board the Beagle, that 'during some part of the day, I wrote my Journal and took much pains in describing carefully and vividly all that I had seen: and this was good practice[120].'

'Later in the voyage' he says 'FitzRoy' (the Captain of the Beagle) 'asked me to read some of my Journal and declared it would be worth publishing, so here was a second book in prospect[121]!'

Darwin's first published writings were the extracts from his letters which Henslow read to the Philosophical Society of Cambridge, and those which Sedgwick submitted to the Geological Society. At Ascension, on the voyage home, a letter from Darwin's sisters had informed him of the commendation with which Sedgwick had spoken to his father of these papers, and he wrote fifty years afterwards: 'After reading this letter, I clambered over the mountains of Ascension with a bounding step, and made the volcanic rocks ring under my geological hammer.' When in 1839 his charming Journal of Researches was published he records that 'The success of this my first literary child always tickles my vanity more than that of any of my other books[122].'

As a matter of fact, no one could possibly be more diffident and modest about his actual literary performances than was Charles Darwin. I have heard him again and again express a wish that he possessed 'dear old Lyell's literary skill'; and he often spoke with the greatest enthusiasm of the 'clearness and force of Huxley's style.' On one occasion he mentioned to me, with something like sadness in his voice, that it had been asserted 'there was a want of connection and continuity in the written arguments,' and he told me that, while engaged on the Origin, he had seldom been able to write, without interruption from pain, for more than twenty minutes at a time!

Charles Darwin never spoke definitely to me about the nature of the sufferings that he so patiently endured. On the occasion of my first visit to him at Down he wrote me a letter (dated August 25th, 1880) in which, after giving the most minute and kindly directions concerning the journey, he arranged that his dog-cart should bring me to the house in time for a 1 o'clock lunch, telling me that to catch a certain train for return, it would be necessary to leave his house a little before 4 o'clock. But he added significantly:—

His constant practice, whenever I visited him, either at Down or at his brother's or daughter's house in London, was to retire with me, after lunch, to a room where we could 'talk geology' for about three quarters of an hour. At the end of that time, Mrs Darwin would come in smilingly, and though no word was spoken by her, Darwin would at once rise and beg me to read the newspaper for a time, or, if I preferred it, to take a stroll in the garden; and after urging me to stay 'if I could possibly spare the time,' would go away, as I understood to lie down. On his return, about half an hour later, the discussion would be resumed where it had been left off, without further remark.

Mr Francis Darwin has told us that the nature and extent of his father's sufferings—so patiently and uncomplainingly borne—were never fully known, even to his own children, but only to the faithful wife who devoted her whole life to the care of his health. As is well known, Darwin seldom visited at other houses, besides those of immediate relatives, or the hydropathic establishment at which he sought relief from his illness. But he was in the habit of sometimes, when in London, calling upon David Forbes the mineralogist (a younger brother of Edward Forbes) then living in York Street, Portman Square. The bonds of union between Charles Darwin and David Forbes were, first, that they had both travelled extensively in South America, and secondly, that both were greatly interested in methods of preserving and making available for future reference all notes and memoranda collected from various sources. David Forbes devoted to the purpose a large room with the most elaborate system of pigeon-holes, about which he told me that Darwin was greatly excited. He also mentioned to me that, on one or more occasions, while Darwin was in his house, pains of such a violent character had seized him that he had been compelled to lie down for a time and had occasioned his host the greatest alarm.

It must always therefore be remembered, in reading Darwin's works, what were the sad conditions under which they were produced. It seems to be doubtful to what extent his ill-health may be regarded as the result of an almost fatal malady, from which he suffered in South America, or as the effect of the constant and prolonged sea-sickness of which he was the victim during the five years' voyage. But certain it is that his work was carried on under no ordinary difficulties, and that it was only by the exercise of the sternest resolution, in devoting every moment of time that he was free from pain to his tasks, that he was able to accomplish his great undertakings.

I do not think, however, that any unprejudiced reader will regard Darwin's literary work as standing in need of anything like an apology. He always aims—and I think succeeds—at conveying his meaning in simple and direct language; and in all his works there is manifest that undercurrent of quiet enthusiasm, which was so strikingly displayed in his conversation. It was delightful to witness the keen enjoyment with which he heard of any new fact or observation bearing on the pursuits in which he was engaged, and his generous nature always led him to attach an exaggerated value to any discovery or suggestion which might be brought to his knowledge—and to appraise the work of others above his own.

The most striking proof of the excellence and value of Darwin's literary work is the fact that his numerous books have attained a circulation, in their original form, probably surpassing that of any other scientific writings ever produced—and that, in translations, they have appealed to a wider circle of readers than any previous naturalist has ever addressed!

We have seen that the idea of Natural Selection 'flashed on' Darwin's mind in October 1838, and although he was himself inclined to think that his complete satisfaction with it, as a solution of the problem of the origin of species, was delayed to a considerably later date, yet I believe that this was only the result of his over-cautious temperament, and we must accept the date named as being that of the real birth of the hypothesis.

At this early date, too, it is evident that Darwin conceived the idea that he might accomplish for the principle of evolution in the organic world, what Lyell had done, in the Principles, for the inorganic world. To cite his own words, 'after my return to England it appeared to me that by following the example of Lyell in Geology, and by collecting all facts which bore in any way on the variation of animals and plants under domestication and nature, some light might perhaps be thrown on the whole subject[123].' 'In June 1842,' he says, 'I first allowed myself' (how significant is the phrase!) 'the satisfaction of writing a brief abstract of my theory in pencil in 35 pages[124].'

For many years it was thought that this first sketch of Darwin's great work had been lost. But after the death of Mrs Darwin in 1896, when the house at Down was vacated, the interesting MS. was found 'hidden in a cupboard under the stairs which was not used for papers of any value but rather as an overflow of matters he did not wish to destroy[125].' By the pious care of his son, this interesting MS.—hurriedly written and sometimes almost illegible—has been given to the world, and it proves how completely Darwin had, at that early date, thought out the main lines of his future opus magnum.

Darwin, however, had no idea of publishing his theory to the world until he was able to support it by a great mass of facts and observations. Lyell, again and again, warned him of the danger which he incurred of being forestalled by other workers; while his brother Erasmus constantly said to him, 'You will find that some one will have been before you[126]!'

The utmost that Darwin could be persuaded to do, however, was to enlarge his sketch of 1842 into one of 230 pages. This he did in the summer of 1844. His manner of procedure seems to have been that, keeping to the same general arrangement of the matter as he had adopted in his original sketch, he elaborated the arguments and added illustrations. Each of the 35 pages of the pencilled sketch, as it was dealt with, had a vertical line drawn across it and was thrown aside. While the 'pencilled sketch' of 1842 was little better than a collection of memoranda, which, though intelligible to the writer at the time, are sometimes difficult either to decipher or to understand the meaning of, the expanded work of 1844 was a much more connected and readable document, which Darwin caused to be carefully copied out. The work was done in the summer months, while he was absent from home, and unable therefore to refer to his abundant notes—Darwin speaks of it, therefore, as 'done from memory.'

The two sketches, as Mr Francis Darwin points out, were each divided into two distinct parts, though this arrangement is not adopted in the Origin of Species, as finally published. Charles Darwin on many occasions spoke of having adopted the Principles of Geology as his model. That work as we have seen consisted of a first portion (eventually expanded from one to two volumes), in which the general principles were enunciated and illustrated, and a second portion (forming the third volume), in which those principles were applied to deciphering the history of the globe in the past. I think that Darwin's original intention was to follow a similar plan; the first part of his work dealing with the evidences derived from the study of variation, crossing, the struggle for existence, etc., and the second to the proofs that natural selection had really operated as illustrated by the geological record, by the facts of geographical distribution, and by many curious phenomena exhibited by plants and animals. Although this plan was eventually abandoned—no doubt wisely—when the Origin came to be written, we cannot but recognise in it another illustration of the great influence exercised by Lyell and his works on Darwin—an influence the latter was always so ready to acknowledge.

On the 5th July 1844, Darwin wrote a letter to his wife in which he said, 'I have just finished my sketch of my species theory. If, as I believe, my theory in time be accepted, even by one competent judge, it will be a considerable step in science.' He goes on to request his wife, 'in case of my sudden death' to devote £400 (or if found necessary £500) to securing an editor and publishing the work. As editor he says 'Lyell would be the best, if he would undertake it,' and later, 'Lyell, especially with the aid of Hooker (and if any good zoological aid), would be best of all.' He then suggests other names from which a choice might be made, but adds 'the editor must be a geologist as well as naturalist.' Fortunately for the world Mrs Darwin was never called upon to take action in accordance with the terms of this affecting document[127].

It must be remembered that, at this time, Darwin was hard at work on the three volumes of the Geology of the Beagle, and on the second and revised edition of his Journal of Researches. This which he considered his 'proper work' he stuck to closely, whenever his health permitted. He had hoped to complete these books in three or four years, but they actually occupied him for ten, owing to constant interruptions from illness. His occasional neglect of this task, and indulgence in his 'species work,' as he called it, was always spoken of at this time by Darwin as 'idleness.' And when the geological and narrative books were finished, Darwin took up the systematic study of the Barnacles (Cirripedia), both recent and fossil, and wrote two monumental works on the subject. These occupied eight years, two out of which he estimated were lost by interruptions from illness. So absorbed was he in this work, that his children regarded it as the necessary occupation of a man,—and when a visitor in the house was seen not to be so employed one of them enquired of their mother, 'When does Mr —— do his Barnacles?' Huxley has left on record his view that in devoting so long a time to the study of the Barnacles Darwin 'never did a wiser thing,' for it brought him into direct contact with the principles on which naturalists found 'species[128].' And Hooker has expressed the same opinion.

Daring these years of labour in geology and zoology—interrupted only by the 'hours of idleness'—devoted to 'the species question,' Darwin, though leading at Down almost the life of a hermit, was nevertheless in frequent communication with two or three faithful friends who followed his labours with the deepest interest. Cautious as was Darwin himself, he found in his life-long friend Lyell, a still more doubting and critical spirit, and it is clear from what Darwin says that he derived much help by laying new ideas and suggestions before him. The year before Darwin's death he wrote of Lyell, 'When I made a remark to him on Geology, he never rested till he saw the whole case clearly, and often made me see it more clearly than I had done before.'

Lyell's father was a botanist of considerable repute, the friend of Sir William Hooker and his distinguished son Dr (now Sir Joseph) Hooker. While Darwin was writing his Journal of Researches, he handed the proof-sheets to Lyell with permission to show them to his father, who was a man of great literary judgment. The elder Lyell, in turn, showed them to young Mr Hooker, who was then preparing to join Sir James Ross, in his celebrated Antarctic voyage with H.M. ships Erebus and Terror. Hooker was then working hard to take his doctor's degree before joining the expedition as surgeon, but he kept Darwin's proof-sheets under his pillow, so as to get opportunities of reading them 'between waking and rising.' Before leaving England, however, Hooker in 1839 casually met and was introduced to Darwin, and thus commenced a friendship which resulted in such inestimable benefits to science. Before sailing with the Antarctic expedition the young surgeon received from Charles Lyell, as a parting gift, 'a copy of Darwin's Journal complete'; and he tells us that the perusal stimulated in him 'an enthusiasm in the desire to travel and observe[129].'

On Hooker's return from the voyage in 1843, a friendly letter from Darwin commenced that remarkable correspondence, which will always afford the best means of judging of the development of ideas in Darwin's mind. Hooker's wide knowledge of plants—especially of all questions concerning their distribution—was of invaluable assistance to Darwin, at a time when his attention was more particularly absorbed by geology and zoology, while botany had not as yet received much attention from him. Hooker's experience, gained in travel, his sound judgment and balanced mind made him a judicious adviser, while his caution and candour fitted him to become a trenchant critic of new suggestions, scarcely inferior in that respect to Lyell.

Darwin does not appear to have made the acquaintance of Huxley till a considerably later date; but we find the great comparative anatomist had in 1851 already become so deeply impressed by Darwin, that he said in writing to a friend he 'might be anything if he had good health[130].' Huxley used to visit Darwin at Down occasionally, and I have often heard the latter speak of the instruction and pleasure he enjoyed from their intercourse.

For many years of his life, Darwin used to come to London and stay with his brother or daughter for about a week at a time, and on these occasions—which usually occurred about twice in the year I believe—he would meet Lyell to 'talk Geology,' Hooker for discussions on Botany, and Huxley for Zoology.

For twenty years Darwin had 'collected facts on a wholesale scale, more especially with respect to domesticated productions, by printed enquiries, by conversations with skilful breeders and gardeners, and by extensive reading.' 'When,' he added, 'I see the list of books of all kinds which I read and abstracted, including whole series of Journals and Transactions, I am surprised at my industry[131].' In September 1854 the Barnacle work was finished and 10,000 specimens sent out of the house and distributed, and then he devoted himself to arranging his 'huge pile of notes, to observing and experimenting in relation to the transmutation of species.'

It was early in 1856 when this work had been completed, that, again urged by Lyell, he actually commenced writing his book. It was planned as a work on a considerable scale and, if finished, would have reached dimensions three or four times as great as did eventually the Origin of Species. Working steadily and continuously he had got as far as Chapter X, completing more than one half the book, when as he says Wallace's letter and essay came 'like a bolt from the blue.'

Oppressed by illness, anxiety and perplexity, as we have seen that Darwin was at the time, he fortunately consented to leave matters—though with great reluctance—in the hands of his friends Lyell and Hooker. They took the wise course of reading Wallace's paper at the Linnean Society on July 1st, 1858, at the same time giving extracts from Darwin's memoir written in 1844, and the abstract of a letter written by Darwin in 1857 to the distinguished American botanist, Asa Gray. This solution of the difficulty happily met with the complete approval of Wallace; and, as the result of the episode, Darwin came to the conclusion that it would not be wise to defer full publication of his views, until the extensive work on which he was engaged could be finished, but an 'abstract' of them must be prepared and issued with as little delay as possible.

For a time there was hesitation, as Darwin's correspondence with Lyell and Hooker shows, between the two plans of sending this 'abstract' to the Linnean Society in a series of papers or of making it an independent book. But Darwin entertained an invincible dislike to submitting his various conclusions to the judgment of the Council of a Society, and, in the end, the preparation of the 'Abstract' in the form of a book of moderate size, was decided on. This was the origin of Darwin's great work.

The sickness at Down had led to the abandonment of the house for a time, and, three weeks after the reading of the joint paper at the Linnean Society, we find Darwin temporarily established at Sandown, in the Isle of Wight, where the writing of the Origin of Species was commenced. The work was resumed in September when the family returned to Down, and from that time was pressed forward with the greatest diligence.

For the first half of the book, the task before Darwin was to condense, into less than one half their dimensions, the chapters he had already written for the large work as originally projected. But for the second half of the book, he had to expand directly from the essay of 1844.

So closely did Darwin apply himself to the work, that, by the end of March 28th, 1859, he was able to write to Lyell telling him that he hoped to be ready to go to press early in May, and asking advice about publication: he says, 'My Abstract will be about five hundred pages of the size of your first edition of the Elements of Geology.' Lyell introduced Darwin to John Murray, who had issued all his own works, and the present representative of that publishing firm has placed on record a very interesting account of the ever thoughtful and considerate relations between Darwin and his publishers, which were maintained to the end[132].

The MS. of the book seems to have been practically finished early in May, and Darwin's health then broke down for a time, so completely that he had to retire to a hydropathic establishment. By June 21st he was able to write to Lyell 'I am working very hard, but get on slowly, for I find that my corrections are terrifically heavy, and the work most difficult to me. I have corrected 130 pages, and the volume will be about 500. I have tried my best to make it clear and striking, but very much fear that I have failed; so many discussions are and must be very perplexing. I have done my best. If you had all my materials, I am sure you would have made a splendid book. I long to finish, for I am certainly worn out[133].' On September 10th the last proof was corrected and the preparation of the index commenced. At the meeting of the British Association in Aberdeen, Lyell made the important announcement of the approaching publication of the great work. On November 24th the book was issued, 1250 copies having been printed, and Darwin wrote to Murray, 'I am infinitely pleased and proud at the appearance of my child.' The edition was sold out in a day, and was followed early in the next year by the issue of 3000 copies; and untold thousands have since appeared.

The writing of such a work as the Origin of Species, in so short a time—especially taking into consideration the condition of its author's health—was a most remarkable feat. It would, of course, not have been possible but for the fact that Darwin's mind was completely saturated with the subject, and that he had command of such an enormous body of methodically arranged notes. He showed the greatest anxiety to convince his scientific contemporaries, and at the same time to make his meaning clear to the general reader. With the former object, both MS. and printed proofs were submitted to the criticism of Lyell and Hooker; and the latter end was obtained by sending the MS. to a lady friend, Miss G. Tollet—she, as Darwin says 'being an excellent judge of style, is going to look out errors for me.' Finally the proofs of the book were carefully read by Mrs Darwin herself.

The splendid success achieved by the work is a matter of history. Its clearness of statement and candour in reasoning pleased the general public; critics without any profound knowledge of natural history were beguiled into the opinion that they understood the whole matter! and, according to their varying tastes, indulged in shallow objection or slightly offensive patronage. The fully-anticipated, theological vituperation was of course not lacking, but most of the 'replies' to Darwin's arguments were 'lifted' from the book itself, in which objections to his views were honestly stated and candidly considered by the author.

The best testimony to the profound and far-reaching character of the scientific discussions of the Origin of Species is found in the fact that both Hooker and Huxley, in spite of their wide knowledge and long intercourse with Darwin, found the work, so condensed were its reasonings, a 'very hard book' to read, one on which it was difficult to pronounce a judgment till after several perusals!

It would be idle to speculate at the present day whether the cause of Evolution would have been better served by the publication, as Darwin at one time proposed, of a 'Preliminary Essay,' like that of 1844, or by the great work, which had been commenced and half completed in 1858, rather than by the 'abstract,' in which the theory of Natural Selection was in the end presented to the world. Probably the more moderate dimensions of the Origin of Species made it far better suited for the general reader; while the condensation which was necessitated did not in the end militate against its influence with men of science. It will I think be now generally conceded that the great success of this grand work was fully deserved. A subject of such complexity as that which it dealt with could only be adequately discussed in a manner that would demand careful attention and thought on the part of the reader; and Darwin's well-weighed words, carefully balanced sentences, and guarded reservations are admirably adapted to the accomplishment of the difficult task he had undertaken. The Origin of Species has been read by the millions with pleasure, and, at the same time, by the deepest thinkers of the age with conviction.

It is scarcely possible to refer to the literary style of Darwin's work without a reference to a misconception arising from that very candid analysis of his characteristics which he wrote for the satisfaction of his family, but which has happily been given to the world by his son. In his early life Darwin was exceedingly fond of music, and took such delight in good literature, especially poetry, that when on his journeys in South America he found himself able to carry only one book with him, the work chosen was the poems of Milton—the former student of his own Christ's College, Cambridge. But towards the end of his life, Darwin had sadly to confess that he found that he had quite lost the capacity of enjoying either music or the noblest works of literature.

Some have argued that Darwin's scientific labours must have actually proved destructive to his artistic and literary tastes, and have even gone so far as to assert—in spite of numerous examples to the contrary—that there is a natural antithesis between the mental conditions that respectively favour scientific and artistic excellence.

But I think there is a very simple explanation of the loss by Darwin of his powers of enjoyment of music and poetry, a loss which he evidently greatly deplored. His scientific undertaking was so gigantic, and, at the same time, his health was so broken and precarious, that he felt his only chance of success lay in utilizing, for the tasks before him, every moment that he was free from acute suffering and retained any power of working. Consequently, when the self-imposed task of each day was completed, he found himself in a state of mental collapse. Now to appreciate the beauties of fine music or the work of a great writer certainly demands that the mind should be fresh and unjaded, whereas, at the only times Darwin had for relaxation, he was quite unfitted for these higher delights. We are not surprised then to learn that he sought and found relief in listening to his wife's reading of some pleasant novel or in the nightly game of backgammon, as the only means of resting his wearied brain.

No one who had the privilege of conversing with Darwin in his later years can doubt of his having retained to the end the full possession of his refined tastes as well as his great mental powers. His love for and sympathy with every movement tending to progress—especially in the scientific and educational world—his devotion to his friends, with no little indulgence of indignation for what he thought false or mean in others, these were his conspicuous characteristics, and they were combined with a gentle playfulness and sense of humour, which made him the most delightful and loveable of companions.

CHAPTER XI

In two essays 'On the Coming of Age of the Origin of Species[134],' and 'On the Reception of the Origin of Species[135],' published in 1880 and 1887 respectively, Huxley has discussed the course of events following the publication of Darwin's great work, he having the advantage of being one of the chief actors in those events. There is a striking parallelism between the manner that the Principles of Geology had been received thirty years earlier, and the way that the Origin of Species was met, both by Darwin's scientific contemporaries and the reading public.

At the outset, as we have already intimated, Lyell and Darwin were equally fortunate, in that each found a critic, in one of the chief organs of public opinion, who was at the same time both competent and sympathetic. The story of the lucky accident by which this came about in Darwin's case has been told by Huxley himself[136].