The Life and Letters of Charles Darwin, Volume I

h >> his son >> The Life and Letters of Charles Darwin, Volume I

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43

My father speaks of the officers as a fine determined set of men, and
especially of Wickham, the first lieutenant, as a "glorious fellow." The
latter being responsible for the smartness and appearance of the ship
strongly objected to his littering the decks, and spoke of specimens as
"d--d beastly devilment," and used to add, "If I were skipper, I would soon
have you and all your d--d mess out of the place."

A sort of halo of sanctity was given to my father by the fact of his dining
in the Captain's cabin, so that the midshipmen used at first to call him
"Sir," a formality, however, which did not prevent his becoming fast
friends with the younger officers. He wrote about the year 1861 or 1862 to
Mr. P.G. King, M.L.C., Sydney, who, as before stated, was a midshipman on
board the "Beagle":--"The remembrance of old days, when we used to sit and
talk on the booms of the "Beagle", will always, to the day of my death,
make me glad to hear of your happiness and prosperity." Mr. King describes
the pleasure my father seemed to take "in pointing out to me as a youngster
the delights of the tropical nights, with their balmy breezes eddying out
of the sails above us, and the sea lighted up by the passage of the ship
through the never-ending streams of phosphorescent animalculae."

It has been assumed that his ill-health in later years was due to his
having suffered so much from sea-sickness. This he did not himself
believe, but rather ascribed his bad health to the hereditary fault which
came out as gout in some of the past generations. I am not quite clear as
to how much he actually suffered from sea-sickness; my impression is
distinct that, according to his own memory, he was not actually ill after
the first three weeks, but constantly uncomfortable when the vessel pitched
at all heavily. But, judging from his letters, and from the evidence of
some of the officers, it would seem that in later years he forgot the
extent of the discomfort from which he suffered. Writing June 3, 1836,
from the Cape of Good Hope, he says: "It is a lucky thing for me that the
voyage is drawing to its close, for I positively suffer more from sea-
sickness now than three years ago." Admiral Lort Stokes wrote to the
"Times", April 25, 1883:--

"May I beg a corner for my feeble testimony to the marvellous persevering
endurance in the cause of science of that great naturalist, my old and lost
friend, Mr. Charles Darwin, whose remains are so very justly to be honoured
with a resting-place in Westminster Abbey?

"Perhaps no one can better testify to his early and most trying labours
than myself. We worked together for several years at the same table in the
poop cabin of the 'Beagle' during her celebrated voyage, he with his
microscope and myself at the charts. It was often a very lively end of the
little craft, and distressingly so to my old friend, who suffered greatly
from sea-sickness. After perhaps an hour's work he would say to me, 'Old
fellow, I must take the horizontal for it,' that being the best relief
position from ship motion; a stretch out on one side of the table for some
time would enable him to resume his labours for a while, when he had again
to lie down.

"It was distressing to witness this early sacrifice of Mr. Darwin's health,
who ever afterwards seriously felt the ill-effects of the 'Beagle's'
voyage."

Mr. A.B. Usborne writes, "He was a dreadful sufferer from sea-sickness, and
at times, when I have been officer of the watch, and reduced the sails,
making the ship more easy, and thus relieving him, I have been pronounced
by him to be 'a good officer,' and he would resume his microscopic
observations in the poop cabin." The amount of work that he got through on
the "Beagle" shows that he was habitually in full vigour; he had, however,
one severe illness, in South America, when he was received into the house
of an Englishman, Mr. Corfield, who tended him with careful kindness. I
have heard him say that in this illness every secretion of the body was
affected, and that when he described the symptoms to his father Dr. Darwin
could make no guess as to the nature of the disease. My father was
sometimes inclined to think that the breaking up of his health was to some
extent due to this attack.

The "Beagle" letters give ample proof of his strong love of home, and all
connected with it, from his father down to Nancy, his old nurse, to whom he
sometimes sends his love.

His delight in home-letters is shown in such passages as:--"But if you knew
the glowing, unspeakable delight, which I felt at being certain that my
father and all of you were well, only four months ago, you would not grudge
the labour lost in keeping up the regular series of letters."

Or again--his longing to return in words like these:--"It is too delightful
to think that I shall see the leaves fall and hear the robin sing next
autumn at Shrewsbury. My feelings are those of a schoolboy to the smallest
point; I doubt whether ever boy longed for his holidays as much as I do to
see you all again. I am at present, although nearly half the world is
between me and home, beginning to arrange what I shall do, where I shall go
during the first week."

Another feature in his letters is the surprise and delight with which he
hears of his collections and observations being of some use. It seems only
to have gradually occurred to him that he would ever be more than collector
of specimens and facts, of which the great men were to make use. And even
as to the value of his collections he seems to have had much doubt, for he
wrote to Henslow in 1834:--"I really began to think that my collections
were so poor that you were puzzled what to say; the case is now quite on
the opposite tack, for you are guilty of exciting all my vain feelings to a
most comfortable pitch; if hard work will atone for these thoughts, I vow
it shall not be spared."

After his return and settlement in London, he began to realise the value of
what he had done, and wrote to Captain Fitz-Roy--"However others may look
back to the 'Beagle's' voyage, now that the small disagreeable parts are
well-nigh forgotten, I think it far the MOST FORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCE IN MY
LIFE that the chance afforded by your offer of taking a Naturalist fell on
me. I often have the most vivid and delightful pictures of what I saw on
board the 'Beagle' pass before my eyes. These recollections, and what I
learnt on Natural History, I would not exchange for twice ten thousand a
year."

In selecting the following series of letters, I have been guided by the
wish to give as much personal detail as possible. I have given only a few
scientific letters, to illustrate the way in which he worked, and how he
regarded his own results. In his 'Journal of Researches' he gives
incidentally some idea of his personal character; the letters given in the
present chapter serve to amplify in fresher and more spontaneous words that
impression of his personality which the 'Journal' has given to so many
readers.]

CHARLES DARWIN TO R.W. DARWIN.
Bahia, or San Salvador, Brazils
[February 8, 1832].

I find after the first page I have been writing to my sisters.

My dear Father,

I am writing this on the 8th of February, one day's sail past St. Jago
(Cape de Verd), and intend taking the chance of meeting with a homeward-
bound vessel somewhere about the equator. The date, however, will tell
this whenever the opportunity occurs. I will now begin from the day of
leaving England, and give a short account of our progress. We sailed, as
you know, on the 27th of December, and have been fortunate enough to have
had from that time to the present a fair and moderate breeze. It
afterwards proved that we had escaped a heavy gale in the Channel, another
at Madeira, and another on [the] Coast of Africa. But in escaping the
gale, we felt its consequences--a heavy sea. In the Bay of Biscay there
was a long and continuous swell, and the misery I endured from sea-sickness
is far beyond what I ever guessed at. I believe you are curious about it.
I will give you all my dear-bought experience. Nobody who has only been to
sea for twenty-four hours has a right to say that sea-sickness is even
uncomfortable. The real misery only begins when you are so exhausted that
a little exertion makes a feeling of faintness come on. I found nothing
but lying in my hammock did me any good. I must especially except your
receipt of raisins, which is the only food that the stomach will bear.

On the 4th of January we were not many miles from Madeira, but as there was
a heavy sea running, and the island lay to windward, it was not thought
worth while to beat up to it. It afterwards has turned out it was lucky we
saved ourselves the trouble. I was much too sick even to get up to see the
distant outline. On the 6th, in the evening, we sailed into the harbour of
Santa Cruz. I now first felt even moderately well, and I was picturing to
myself all the delights of fresh fruits growing in beautiful valleys, and
reading Humboldt's descriptions of the island's glorious views, when
perhaps you may nearly guess at our disappointment, when a small pale man
informed us we must perform a strict quarantine of twelve days. There was
a death-like stillness in the ship till the Captain cried "up jib," and we
left this long-wished for place.

We were becalmed for a day between Teneriffe and the Grand Canary, and here
I first experienced any enjoyment. The view was glorious. The Peak of
Teneriffe was seen amongst the clouds like another world. Our only
drawback was the extreme wish of visiting this glorious island. TELL EYTON
NEVER TO FORGET EITHER THE CANARY ISLANDS OR SOUTH AMERICA; that I am sure
it will well repay the necessary trouble, but that he must make up his mind
to find a good deal of the latter. I feel certain he will regret it if he
does not make the attempt. From Teneriffe to St. Jago the voyage was
extremely pleasant. I had a net astern the vessel which caught great
numbers of curious animals, and fully occupied my time in my cabin, and on
deck the weather was so delightful and clear, that the sky and water
together made a picture. On the 16th we arrived at Port Praya, the capital
of the Cape de Verds, and there we remained twenty-three days, viz., till
yesterday, the 7th of February. The time has flown away most delightfully,
indeed nothing can be pleasanter; exceedingly busy, and that business both
a duty and a great delight. I do not believe I have spent one half-hour
idly since leaving Teneriffe. St. Jago has afforded me an exceedingly rich
harvest in several branches of Natural History. I find the descriptions
scarcely worth anything of many of the commoner animals that inhabit the
Tropics. I allude, of course, to those of the lower classes.

Geologising in a volcanic country is most delightful; besides the interest
attached to itself, it leads you into most beautiful and retired spots.
Nobody but a person fond of Natural History can imagine the pleasure of
strolling under cocoa-nuts in a thicket of bananas and coffee-plants, and
an endless number of wild flowers. And this island, that has given me so
much instruction and delight, is reckoned the most uninteresting place that
we perhaps shall touch at during our voyage. It certainly is generally
very barren, but the valleys are more exquisitely beautiful, from the very
contrast. It is utterly useless to say anything about the scenery; it
would be as profitable to explain to a blind man colours, as to a person
who has not been out of Europe, the total dissimilarity of a tropical view.
Whenever I enjoy anything, I always either look forward to writing it down,
either in my log-book (which increases in bulk), or in a letter; so you
must excuse raptures, and those raptures badly expressed. I find my
collections are increasing wonderfully, and from Rio I think I shall be
obliged to send a cargo home.

All the endless delays which we experienced at Plymouth have been most
fortunate, as I verily believe no person ever went out better provided for
collecting and observing in the different branches of Natural History. In
a multitude of counsellors I certainly found good. I find to my great
surprise that a ship is singularly comfortable for all sorts of work.
Everything is so close at hand, and being cramped makes one so methodical,
that in the end I have been a gainer. I already have got to look at going
to sea as a regular quiet place, like going back to home after staying away
from it. In short, I find a ship a very comfortable house, with everything
you want, and if it was not for sea-sickness the whole world would be
sailors. I do not think there is much danger of Erasmus setting the
example, but in case there should be, he may rely upon it he does not know
one-tenth of the sufferings of sea-sickness.

I like the officers much more than I did at first, especially Wickham, and
young King and Stokes, and indeed all of them. The Captain continues
steadily very kind, and does everything in his power to assist me. We see
very little of each other when in harbour, our pursuits lead us in such
different tracks. I never in my life met with a man who could endure
nearly so great a share of fatigue. He works incessantly, and when
apparently not employed, he is thinking. If he does not kill himself, he
will during this voyage do a wonderful quantity of work. I find I am very
well, and stand the little heat we have had as yet as well as anybody. We
shall soon have it in real earnest. We are now sailing for Fernando
Noronha, off the coast of Brazil, where we shall not stay very long, and
then examine the shoals between there and Rio, touching perhaps at Bahia.
I will finish this letter when an opportunity of sending it occurs.

FEBRUARY 26TH.

About 280 miles from Bahia. On the 10th we spoke the packet "Lyra", on her
voyage to Rio. I sent a short letter by her, to be sent to England on
[the] first opportunity. We have been singularly unlucky in not meeting
with any homeward-bound vessels, but I suppose [at] Bahia we certainly
shall be able to write to England. Since writing the first part of [this]
letter nothing has occurred except crossing the Equator, and being shaved.
This most disagreeable operation consists in having your face rubbed with
paint and tar, which forms a lather for a saw which represents the razor,
and then being half drowned in a sail filled with salt water. About 50
miles north of the line we touched at the rocks of St. Paul; this little
speck (about 1/4 of a mile across) in the Atlantic has seldom been visited.
It is totally barren, but is covered by hosts of birds; they were so unused
to men that we found we could kill plenty with stones and sticks. After
remaining some hours on the island, we returned on board with the boat
loaded with our prey. From this we went to Fernando Noronha, a small
island where the [Brazilians] send their exiles. The landing there was
attended with so much difficulty owing [to] a heavy surf that the Captain
determined to sail the next day after arriving. My one day on shore was
exceedingly interesting, the whole island is one single wood so matted
together by creepers that it is very difficult to move out of the beaten
path. I find the Natural History of all these unfrequented spots most
exceedingly interesting, especially the geology. I have written this much
in order to save time at Bahia.

Decidedly the most striking thing in the Tropics is the novelty of the
vegetable forms. Cocoa-nuts could well be imagined from drawings, if you
add to them a graceful lightness which no European tree partakes of.
Bananas and plantains are exactly the same as those in hothouses, the
acacias or tamarinds are striking from the blueness of their foliage; but
of the glorious orange trees, no description, no drawings, will give any
just idea; instead of the sickly green of our oranges, the native ones
exceed the Portugal laurel in the darkness of their tint, and infinitely
exceed it in beauty of form. Cocoa-nuts, papaws, the light green bananas,
and oranges, loaded with fruit, generally surround the more luxuriant
villages. Whilst viewing such scenes, one feels the impossibility that any
description would come near the mark, much less be overdrawn.

MARCH 1ST.

Bahia, or San Salvador. I arrived at this place on the 28th of February,
and am now writing this letter after having in real earnest strolled in the
forests of the new world. No person could imagine anything so beautiful as
the ancient town of Bahia, it is fairly embosomed in a luxuriant wood of
beautiful trees, and situated on a steep bank, and overlooks the calm
waters of the great bay of All Saints. The houses are white and lofty,
and, from the windows being narrow and long, have a very light and elegant
appearance. Convents, porticos, and public buildings, vary the uniformity
of the houses; the bay is scattered over with large ships; in short, and
what can be said more, it is one of the finest views in the Brazils. But
the exquisite glorious pleasure of walking amongst such flowers, and such
trees, cannot be comprehended but by those who have experienced it.
Although in so low a latitude the locality is not disagreeably hot, but at
present it is very damp, for it is the rainy season. I find the climate as
yet agrees admirably with me; it makes me long to live quietly for some
time in such a country. If you really want to have [an idea] of tropical
countries, study Humboldt. Skip the scientific parts, and commence after
leaving Teneriffe. My feelings amount to admiration the more I read him.
Tell Eyton (I find I am writing to my sisters!) how exceedingly I enjoy
America, and that I am sure it will be a great pity if he does not make a
start.

This letter will go on the 5th, and I am afraid will be some time before it
reaches you; it must be a warning how in other parts of the world you may
be a long time without hearing. A year might by accident thus pass. About
the 12th we start for Rio, but we remain some time on the way in sounding
the Albrolhos shoals. Tell Eyton as far as my experience goes let him
study Spanish, French, drawing, and Humboldt. I do sincerely hope to hear
of (if not to see him) in South America. I look forward to the letters in
Rio--till each one is acknowledged, mention its date in the next.

We have beat all the ships in manoeuvring, so much so that the commanding
officer says, we need not follow his example; because we do everything
better than his great ship. I begin to take great interest in naval
points, more especially now, as I find they all say we are the No. 1 in
South America. I suppose the Captain is a most excellent officer. It was
quite glorious to-day how we beat the "Samarang" in furling sails. It is
quite a new thing for a "sounding ship" to beat a regular man-of-war; and
yet the "Beagle" is not at all a particular ship. Erasmus will clearly
perceive it when he hears that in the night I have actually sat down in the
sacred precincts of the quarter deck. You must excuse these queer letters,
and recollect they are generally written in the evening after my day's
work. I take more pains over my log-book, so that eventually you will have
a good account of all the places I visit. Hitherto the voyage has answered
ADMIRABLY to me, and yet I am now more fully aware of your wisdom in
throwing cold water on the whole scheme; the chances are so numerous of
turning out quite the reverse; to such an extent do I feel this, that if my
advice was asked by any person on a similar occasion, I should be very
cautious in encouraging him. I have not time to write to anybody else, so
send to Maer to let them know, that in the midst of the glorious tropical
scenery, I do not forget how instrumental they were in placing me there. I
will not rapturise again, but I give myself great credit in not being crazy
out of pure delight.

Give my love to every soul at home, and to the Owens.

I think one's affections, like other good things, flourish and increase in
these tropical regions.

The conviction that I am walking in the New World is even yet marvellous in
my own eyes, and I dare say it is little less so to you, the receiving a
letter from a son of yours in such a quarter.

Believe me, my dear Father,
Your most affectionate son,
CHARLES DARWIN.

CHARLES DARWIN TO W.D. FOX.
Botofogo Bay, near Rio de Janeiro,
May, 1832.

My dear Fox,

I have delayed writing to you and all my other friends till I arrived here
and had some little spare time. My mind has been, since leaving England,
in a perfect HURRICANE of delight and astonishment, and to this hour
scarcely a minute has passed in idleness...

At St. Jago my natural history and most delightful labours commenced.
During the three weeks I collected a host of marine animals, and enjoyed
many a good geological walk. Touching at some islands, we sailed to Bahia,
and from thence to Rio, where I have already been some weeks. My
collections go on admirably in almost every branch. As for insects, I
trust I shall send a host of undescribed species to England. I believe
they have no small ones in the collections, and here this morning I have
taken minute Hydropori, Noterus, Colymbetes, Hydrophilus, Hydrobius,
Gromius, etc., etc., as specimens of fresh-water beetles. I am entirely
occupied with land animals, as the beach is only sand. Spiders and the
adjoining tribes have perhaps given me, from their novelty, the most
pleasure. I think I have already taken several new genera.

But Geology carries the day: it is like the pleasure of gambling.
Speculating, on first arriving, what the rocks may be, I often mentally cry
out 3 to 1 tertiary against primitive; but the latter have hitherto won all
the bets. So much for the grand end of my voyage; in other respects things
are equally flourishing. My life, when at sea, is so quiet, that to a
person who can employ himself, nothing can be pleasanter; the beauty of the
sky and brilliancy of the ocean together make a picture. But when on
shore, and wandering in the sublime forests, surrounded by views more
gorgeous than even Claude ever imagined, I enjoy a delight which none but
those who have experienced it can understand. If it is to be done, it must
be by studying Humboldt. At our ancient snug breakfasts, at Cambridge, I
little thought that the wide Atlantic would ever separate us; but it is a
rare privilege that with the body, the feelings and memory are not divided.
On the contrary, the pleasantest scenes in my life, many of which have been
in Cambridge, rise from the contrast of the present, the more vividly in my
imagination. Do you think any diamond beetle will ever give me so much
pleasure as our old friend crux major?...It is one of my most constant
amusements to draw pictures of the past; and in them I often see you and
poor little Fran. Oh, Lord, and then old Dash, poor thing! Do you
recollect how you all tormented me about his beautiful tail?

...Think when you are picking insects off a hawthorn-hedge on a fine May
day (wretchedly cold, I have no doubt), think of me collecting amongst
pine-apples and orange-trees; whilst staining your fingers with dirty
blackberries, think and be envious of ripe oranges. This is a proper piece
of bravado, for I would walk through many a mile of sleet, snow, or rain to
shake you by the hand. My dear old Fox, God bless you. Believe me,

Yours affectionately,
CHAS. DARWIN.

CHARLES DARWIN TO J.S. HENSLOW.
Rio de Janeiro, May 18, 1832.

My dear Henslow,

...

Till arriving at Teneriffe (we did not touch at Madeira) I was scarcely out
of my hammock, and really suffered more than you can well imagine from such
a cause. At Santa Cruz, whilst looking amongst the clouds for the Peak,
and repeating to myself Humboldt's sublime descriptions, it was announced
we must perform twelve days' strict quarantine. We had made a short
passage, so "Up jib," and away for St. Jago. You will say all this sounds
very bad, and so it was; but from that to the present time it has been
nearly one scene of continual enjoyment. A net over the stern kept me at
full work till we arrived at St. Jago. Here we spent three most delightful
weeks. The geology was pre-eminently interesting, and I believe quite new;
there are some facts on a large scale of upraised coast (which is an
excellent epoch for all the volcanic rocks to date from), that would
interest Mr. Lyell.

One great source of perplexity to me is an utter ignorance whether I note
the right facts, and whether they are of sufficient importance to interest
others. In the one thing collecting I cannot go wrong. St. Jago is
singularly barren, and produces few plants or insects, so that my hammer
was my usual companion, and in its company most delightful hours I spent.
On the coast I collected many marine animals, chiefly gasteropodous (I
think some new). I examined pretty accurately a Caryopyllia, and, if my
eyes are not bewitched, former descriptions have not the slightest
resemblance to the animal. I took several specimens of an Octopus which
possessed a most marvellous power of changing its colours, equalling any
chameleon, and evidently accommodating the changes to the colour of the
ground which it passed over. Yellowish green, dark brown, and red, were
the prevailing colours; this fact appears to be new, as far as I can find
out. Geology and the invertebrate animals will be my chief object of
pursuit through the whole voyage.