By December 1831, Lyell had come to the resolution to publish the chapters of his work which dealt with the changes going on in the organic world as a volume by itself. This second volume of the Principles he gracefully dedicated to his friend Broderip, who had rendered him such valuable assistance in all questions connected with Natural History.

This volume appeared in January 1832, at the same time that a second edition of the first volume was also issued. The reception of the second volume by the public appears to have been not less favourable than that of the first.

In March 1831, Lyell had accepted the Professorship of Geology in King's College, London. In addition to his desire to aid in the work of scientific education, in which he had always taken so great an interest, Lyell seems to have felt that the task of presenting his views in a popular form would be aided by his having to expound them to a miscellaneous audience. For two years, these lectures were delivered, and attracted much attention; the favourable impressions produced by them on a man of the world have been recorded by Abraham Hayward, and on more scientific thinkers by Harriet Martineau.

The third volume of the Principles was not completed till a second edition of the second volume had been issued. This third volume, appearing in May 1833, dealt with the classification of the Tertiary strata, to which Lyell had devoted so much labour, studying conchology under Deshayes, and visiting all the chief Tertiary deposits of Europe for the collection of materials. The application of the principles enunciated in the two earlier volumes to the unravelling of the past history of the globe, constituted the chief task undertaken in this part of the great work. But not a few controversial questions were dealt with, and the famous 'metamorphic theory' was advanced in opposition to the Wernerian hypothesis of 'primitive formations.' The volume was appropriately dedicated to Murchison, who had been Lyell's companion in the famous Auvergne excursion, which had produced such an effect on his mind.

Within a twelvemonth, a third edition of the whole work in four small volumes was issued, and in the end no less than twelve editions of the Principles of Geology were issued, in addition to portions separately published under the titles of Manual, Elements, and Student's Elements of Geology, of all of which a number of editions have appeared. Lyell was always the most painstaking and conscientious of authors. He declared 'I must write what will be read[59],' and he spared no labour in securing accuracy of statement combined with elegance of diction. His father, a good classical and Italian scholar, had done much towards assisting him to attain literary excellence, and at Oxford, where he took a good degree in classics, he was greatly impressed by the style of Gibbon's writings, and practised both prose and poetic compositions with great diligence.

Both Darwin and Huxley always maintained that the real charm and power of Lyell's work are only to be found in the first edition[60]. As new discoveries were made or more effective illustrations of his views presented themselves to his mind, passage after passage in the work was modified by the author or replaced by others; and the effects of these constant changes—however necessary and desirable in themselves—could not fail to be detrimental to the book as a work of art. He who would form a just idea of the greatness of Lyell's masterpiece, must read the first edition, of course bearing in mind, all the while, the state of science at the time it was written.



CHAPTER VII

THE INFLUENCE OF LYELL'S WORKS

Although the Principles of Geology was received by the public with something like enthusiasm—due to the cogency of its reasoning and the charm of its literary style—there were not wanting critics who attacked the author on the ground of his heterodox views. It had come to be so generally understood, that every expression of geological opinion should, by way of apology, be accompanied by an attempt to 'harmonise' it with the early chapters of Genesis, that the absence of any references of this kind was asserted to be a proof of 'infidelity' on the part of the author.

But Lyell's sincere and earnest efforts to avoid exciting theological prejudice, and the striking illustrations, which he gave in his historical introduction, of the absurdities that had resulted from these prejudices in the past, were not without effect. This was shown in a somewhat remarkable manner in 1831, when, in response to an invitation given to him, he consented to become a candidate for the Chair of Geology at King's College, London, then recently founded.

The election was in the hands of an Archbishop, two Bishops and two Doctors of Divinity, and Lyell relates their decision, as communicated to him, in the following words:—

'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—Hydrogeologie—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 Hydrogeologie, 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:—

'As yet I have only indulged in hypotheses, but they are such powerful ones that I suppose, if they were put into action but for one day, the world would come to an end[99].'

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:—

'I am become a zealous disciple of Mr Lyell's views, as known in his admirable book. Geologising in South America, I am tempted to carry parts to a greater extent even than he does[102].'

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:—

'He abhors mere speculation as nature abhors a vacuum. He is as greedy of cases and precedents as any constitutional lawyer, and all the principles he lays down are capable of being brought to the test of observation and experiment[104].'

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.

'All species have been produced by the development of varieties from common stocks: by the conversion of these, first into permanent races and then into new species, by the process of natural selection, which process is essentially identical with that artificial selection by which man has originated the races of domestic animals—the struggle for existence taking the place of man, and exerting, in the case of natural selection, that selective action which he performs in artificial selection[108].'

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:—

'I can remember the very spot in the road, whilst in my carriage, when to my joy the solution occurred to me,'

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:

'I never saw a more striking coincidence; if Wallace had my MS. sketch written out in 1842, he could not have made a better short abstract! Even his terms now stand as heads of my chapters. Please return me the MS., which he does not say he wishes me to publish, but I shall, of course, at once write and offer to send to any journal. So all my originality, whatever it may amount to, will be smashed, though my book, if it ever have any value, will not be deteriorated, as all the labour consists in the application of the theory. I hope you will approve of Wallace's sketch, that I may tell him what to say[115].'

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:—

'I have felt all my life and I still feel, the most sincere satisfaction that Mr Darwin had been at work long before me, and that it was not left for me to attempt to write The Origin of Species. I have long since measured my own strength and know well that it would be quite unequal to that task. For abler men than myself may confess, that they have not that untiring patience in accumulating, and that wonderful skill in using, large masses of facts of the most varied kind,—that wide and accurate physiological knowledge,—that acuteness in devising and skill in carrying out experiments,—and that admirable style of composition, at once clear, persuasive and judicial,—qualities which in their harmonious combination mark out Mr Darwin as the man, perhaps of all men now living, best fitted for the great work he has undertaken and accomplished[116].'

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

'I was then (as often since) the "young man in a hurry," he' (Darwin) 'the painstaking and patient student, seeking ever the full demonstration of the truth he had discovered, rather than to achieve immediate personal fame[117].'

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

THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES

In the preceding chapter I have endeavoured to show how the hypothesis of Natural Selection originated in the minds of its authors, and must now invite attention to the way in which it was introduced to the world. What has been said earlier with respect to the labours and writings of Hutton, Scrope and Lyell may serve to indicate the great importance of the manner of presentment of new ideas—the logical force and literary skill with which they are brought to the notice of scientific contemporaries and the world at large.

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:—

'But I am bound to tell you that I shall not be able to talk with you or anyone else for this length of time, however much I should like to do so—but you can read newspaper or take a stroll during part of the time.'

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 L400 (or if found necessary L500) 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].'