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The Life and Letters of Charles Darwin, Volume I

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




>From attending --'s lectures, I became acquainted with the curator of the
museum, Mr. Macgillivray, who afterwards published a large and excellent
book on the birds of Scotland. I had much interesting natural-history talk
with him, and he was very kind to me. He gave me some rare shells, for I
at that time collected marine mollusca, but with no great zeal.

My summer vacations during these two years were wholly given up to
amusements, though I always had some book in hand, which I read with
interest. During the summer of 1826 I took a long walking tour with two
friends with knapsacks on our backs through North wales. We walked thirty
miles most days, including one day the ascent of Snowdon. I also went with
my sister a riding tour in North Wales, a servant with saddle-bags carrying
our clothes. The autumns were devoted to shooting chiefly at Mr. Owen's,
at Woodhouse, and at my Uncle Jos's (Josiah Wedgwood, the son of the
founder of the Etruria Works.) at Maer. My zeal was so great that I used
to place my shooting-boots open by my bed-side when I went to bed, so as
not to lose half a minute in putting them on in the morning; and on one
occasion I reached a distant part of the Maer estate, on the 20th of August
for black-game shooting, before I could see: I then toiled on with the
game-keeper the whole day through thick heath and young Scotch firs.

I kept an exact record of every bird which I shot throughout the whole
season. One day when shooting at Woodhouse with Captain Owen, the eldest
son, and Major Hill, his cousin, afterwards Lord Berwick, both of whom I
liked very much, I thought myself shamefully used, for every time after I
had fired and thought that I had killed a bird, one of the two acted as if
loading his gun, and cried out, "You must not count that bird, for I fired
at the same time," and the gamekeeper, perceiving the joke, backed them up.
After some hours they told me the joke, but it was no joke to me, for I had
shot a large number of birds, but did not know how many, and could not add
them to my list, which I used to do by making a knot in a piece of string
tied to a button-hole. This my wicked friends had perceived.

How I did enjoy shooting! But I think that I must have been half-
consciously ashamed of my zeal, for I tried to persuade myself that
shooting was almost an intellectual employment; it required so much skill
to judge where to find most game and to hunt the dogs well.

One of my autumnal visits to Maer in 1827 was memorable from meeting there
Sir J. Mackintosh, who was the best converser I ever listened to. I heard
afterwards with a glow of pride that he had said, "There is something in
that young man that interests me." This must have been chiefly due to his
perceiving that I listened with much interest to everything which he said,
for I was as ignorant as a pig about his subjects of history, politics, and
moral philosophy. To hear of praise from an eminent person, though no
doubt apt or certain to excite vanity, is, I think, good for a young man,
as it helps to keep him in the right course.

My visits to Maer during these two or three succeeding years were quite
delightful, independently of the autumnal shooting. Life there was
perfectly free; the country was very pleasant for walking or riding; and in
the evening there was much very agreeable conversation, not so personal as
it generally is in large family parties, together with music. In the
summer the whole family used often to sit on the steps of the old portico,
with the flower-garden in front, and with the steep wooded bank opposite
the house reflected in the lake, with here and there a fish rising or a
water-bird paddling about. Nothing has left a more vivid picture on my
mind than these evenings at Maer. I was also attached to and greatly
revered my Uncle Jos; he was silent and reserved, so as to be a rather
awful man; but he sometimes talked openly with me. He was the very type of
an upright man, with the clearest judgment. I do not believe that any
power on earth could have made him swerve an inch from what he considered
the right course. I used to apply to him in my mind the well-known ode of
Horace, now forgotten by me, in which the words "nec vultus tyranni, etc.,"
come in.
(Justum et tenacem propositi virum
Non civium ardor prava jubentium
Non vultus instantis tyranni
Mente quatit solida.)

CAMBRIDGE 1828-1831.

After having spent two sessions in Edinburgh, my father perceived, or he
heard from my sisters, that I did not like the thought of being a
physician, so he proposed that I should become a clergyman. He was very
properly vehement against my turning into an idle sporting man, which then
seemed my probable destination. I asked for some time to consider, as from
what little I had heard or thought on the subject I had scruples about
declaring my belief in all the dogmas of the Church of England; though
otherwise I liked the thought of being a country clergyman. Accordingly I
read with care 'Pearson on the Creed,' and a few other books on divinity;
and as I did not then in the least doubt the strict and literal truth of
every word in the Bible, I soon persuaded myself that our Creed must be
fully accepted.

Considering how fiercely I have been attacked by the orthodox, it seems
ludicrous that I once intended to be a clergyman. Nor was this intention
and my father's wish ever formerly given up, but died a natural death when,
on leaving Cambridge, I joined the "Beagle" as naturalist. If the
phrenologists are to be trusted, I was well fitted in one respect to be a
clergyman. A few years ago the secretaries of a German psychological
society asked me earnestly by letter for a photograph of myself; and some
time afterwards I received the proceedings of one of the meetings, in which
it seemed that the shape of my head had been the subject of a public
discussion, and one of the speakers declared that I had the bump of
reverence developed enough for ten priests.

As it was decided that I should be a clergyman, it was necessary that I
should go to one of the English universities and take a degree; but as I
had never opened a classical book since leaving school, I found to my
dismay, that in the two intervening years I had actually forgotten,
incredible as it may appear, almost everything which I had learnt, even to
some few of the Greek letters. I did not therefore proceed to Cambridge at
the usual time in October, but worked with a private tutor in Shrewsbury,
and went to Cambridge after the Christmas vacation, early in 1828. I soon
recovered my school standard of knowledge, and could translate easy Greek
books, such as Homer and the Greek Testament, with moderate facility.

During the three years which I spent at Cambridge my time was wasted, as
far as the academical studies were concerned, as completely as at Edinburgh
and at school. I attempted mathematics, and even went during the summer of
1828 with a private tutor (a very dull man) to Barmouth, but I got on very
slowly. The work was repugnant to me, chiefly from my not being able to
see any meaning in the early steps in algebra. This impatience was very
foolish, and in after years I have deeply regretted that I did not proceed
far enough at least to understand something of the great leading principles
of mathematics, for men thus endowed seem to have an extra sense. But I do
not believe that I should ever have succeeded beyond a very low grade.
With respect to Classics I did nothing except attend a few compulsory
college lectures, and the attendance was almost nominal. In my second year
I had to work for a month or two to pass the Little-Go, which I did easily.
Again, in my last year I worked with some earnestness for my final degree
of B.A., and brushed up my Classics, together with a little Algebra and
Euclid, which latter gave me much pleasure, as it did at school. In order
to pass the B.A. examination, it was also necessary to get up Paley's
'Evidences of Christianity,' and his 'Moral Philosophy.' This was done in
a thorough manner, and I am convinced that I could have written out the
whole of the 'Evidences' with perfect correctness, but not of course in the
clear language of Paley. The logic of this book and, as I may add, of his
'Natural Theology,' gave me as much delight as did Euclid. The careful
study of these works, without attempting to learn any part by rote, was the
only part of the academical course which, as I then felt and as I still
believe, was of the least use to me in the education of my mind. I did not
at that time trouble myself about Paley's premises; and taking these on
trust, I was charmed and convinced by the long line of argumentation. By
answering well the examination questions in Paley, by doing Euclid well,
and by not failing miserably in Classics, I gained a good place among the
oi polloi or crowd of men who do not go in for honours. Oddly enough, I
cannot remember how high I stood, and my memory fluctuates between the
fifth, tenth, or twelfth, name on the list. (Tenth in the list of January
1831.)

Public lectures on several branches were given in the University,
attendance being quite voluntary; but I was so sickened with lectures at
Edinburgh that I did not even attend Sedgwick's eloquent and interesting
lectures. Had I done so I should probably have become a geologist earlier
than I did. I attended, however, Henslow's lectures on Botany, and liked
them much for their extreme clearness, and the admirable illustrations; but
I did not study botany. Henslow used to take his pupils, including several
of the older members of the University, field excursions, on foot or in
coaches, to distant places, or in a barge down the river, and lectured on
the rarer plants and animals which were observed. These excursions were
delightful.

Although, as we shall presently see, there were some redeeming features in
my life at Cambridge, my time was sadly wasted there, and worse than
wasted. From my passion for shooting and for hunting, and, when this
failed, for riding across country, I got into a sporting set, including
some dissipated low-minded young men. We used often to dine together in
the evening, though these dinners often included men of a higher stamp, and
we sometimes drank too much, with jolly singing and playing at cards
afterwards. I know that I ought to feel ashamed of days and evenings thus
spent, but as some of my friends were very pleasant, and we were all in the
highest spirits, I cannot help looking back to these times with much
pleasure.

But I am glad to think that I had many other friends of a widely different
nature. I was very intimate with Whitley (Rev. C. Whitley, Hon. Canon of
Durham, formerly Reader in Natural Philosophy in Durham University.), who
was afterwards Senior Wrangler, and we used continually to take long walks
together. He inoculated me with a taste for pictures and good engravings,
of which I bought some. I frequently went to the Fitzwilliam Gallery, and
my taste must have been fairly good, for I certainly admired the best
pictures, which I discussed with the old curator. I read also with much
interest Sir Joshua Reynolds' book. This taste, though not natural to me,
lasted for several years, and many of the pictures in the National Gallery
in London gave me much pleasure; that of Sebastian del Piombo exciting in
me a sense of sublimity.

I also got into a musical set, I believe by means of my warm-hearted
friend, Herbert (The late John Maurice Herbert, County Court Judge of
Cardiff and the Monmouth Circuit.), who took a high wrangler's degree.
>From associating with these men, and hearing them play, I acquired a strong
taste for music, and used very often to time my walks so as to hear on week
days the anthem in King's College Chapel. This gave me intense pleasure,
so that my backbone would sometimes shiver. I am sure that there was no
affectation or mere imitation in this taste, for I used generally to go by
myself to King's College, and I sometimes hired the chorister boys to sing
in my rooms. Nevertheless I am so utterly destitute of an ear, that I
cannot perceive a discord, or keep time and hum a tune correctly; and it is
a mystery how I could possibly have derived pleasure from music.

My musical friends soon perceived my state, and sometimes amused themselves
by making me pass an examination, which consisted in ascertaining how many
tunes I could recognise when they were played rather more quickly or slowly
than usual. 'God save the King,' when thus played, was a sore puzzle.
There was another man with almost as bad an ear as I had, and strange to
say he played a little on the flute. Once I had the triumph of beating him
in one of our musical examinations.

But no pursuit at Cambridge was followed with nearly so much eagerness or
gave me so much pleasure as collecting beetles. It was the mere passion
for collecting, for I did not dissect them, and rarely compared their
external characters with published descriptions, but got them named anyhow.
I will give a proof of my zeal: one day, on tearing off some old bark, I
saw two rare beetles, and seized one in each hand; then I saw a third and
new kind, which I could not bear to lose, so that I popped the one which I
held in my right hand into my mouth. Alas! it ejected some intensely acrid
fluid, which burnt my tongue so that I was forced to spit the beetle out,
which was lost, as was the third one.

I was very successful in collecting, and invented two new methods; I
employed a labourer to scrape during the winter, moss off old trees and
place it in a large bag, and likewise to collect the rubbish at the bottom
of the barges in which reeds are brought from the fens, and thus I got some
very rare species. No poet ever felt more delighted at seeing his first
poem published than I did at seeing, in Stephens' 'Illustrations of British
Insects,' the magic words, "captured by C. Darwin, Esq." I was introduced
to entomology by my second cousin W. Darwin Fox, a clever and most pleasant
man, who was then at Christ's College, and with whom I became extremely
intimate. Afterwards I became well acquainted, and went out collecting,
with Albert Way of Trinity, who in after years became a well-known
archaeologist; also with H. Thompson of the same College, afterwards a
leading agriculturist, chairman of a great railway, and Member of
Parliament. It seems therefore that a taste for collecting beetles is some
indication of future success in life!

I am surprised what an indelible impression many of the beetles which I
caught at Cambridge have left on my mind. I can remember the exact
appearance of certain posts, old trees and banks where I made a good
capture. The pretty Panagaeus crux-major was a treasure in those days, and
here at Down I saw a beetle running across a walk, and on picking it up
instantly perceived that it differed slightly from P. crux-major, and it
turned out to be P. quadripunctatus, which is only a variety or closely
allied species, differing from it very slightly in outline. I had never
seen in those old days Licinus alive, which to an uneducated eye hardly
differs from many of the black Carabidous beetles; but my sons found here a
specimen, and I instantly recognised that it was new to me; yet I had not
looked at a British beetle for the last twenty years.

I have not as yet mentioned a circumstance which influenced my whole career
more than any other. This was my friendship with Professor Henslow.
Before coming up to Cambridge, I had heard of him from my brother as a man
who knew every branch of science, and I was accordingly prepared to
reverence him. He kept open house once every week when all undergraduates,
and some older members of the University, who were attached to science,
used to meet in the evening. I soon got, through Fox, an invitation, and
went there regularly. Before long I became well acquainted with Henslow,
and during the latter half of my time at Cambridge took long walks with him
on most days; so that I was called by some of the dons "the man who walks
with Henslow;" and in the evening I was very often asked to join his family
dinner. His knowledge was great in botany, entomology, chemistry,
mineralogy, and geology. His strongest taste was to draw conclusions from
long-continued minute observations. His judgment was excellent, and his
whole mind well balanced; but I do not suppose that any one would say that
he possessed much original genius. He was deeply religious, and so
orthodox that he told me one day he should be grieved if a single word of
the Thirty-nine Articles were altered. His moral qualities were in every
way admirable. He was free from every tinge of vanity or other petty
feeling; and I never saw a man who thought so little about himself or his
own concerns. His temper was imperturbably good, with the most winning and
courteous manners; yet, as I have seen, he could be roused by any bad
action to the warmest indignation and prompt action.

I once saw in his company in the streets of Cambridge almost as horrid a
scene as could have been witnessed during the French Revolution. Two body-
snatchers had been arrested, and whilst being taken to prison had been torn
from the constable by a crowd of the roughest men, who dragged them by
their legs along the muddy and stony road. They were covered from head to
foot with mud, and their faces were bleeding either from having been kicked
or from the stones; they looked like corpses, but the crowd was so dense
that I got only a few momentary glimpses of the wretched creatures. Never
in my life have I seen such wrath painted on a man's face as was shown by
Henslow at this horrid scene. He tried repeatedly to penetrate the mob;
but it was simply impossible. He then rushed away to the mayor, telling me
not to follow him, but to get more policemen. I forget the issue, except
that the two men were got into the prison without being killed.

Henslow's benevolence was unbounded, as he proved by his many excellent
schemes for his poor parishioners, when in after years he held the living
of Hitcham. My intimacy with such a man ought to have been, and I hope
was, an inestimable benefit. I cannot resist mentioning a trifling
incident, which showed his kind consideration. Whilst examining some
pollen-grains on a damp surface, I saw the tubes exserted, and instantly
rushed off to communicate my surprising discovery to him. Now I do not
suppose any other professor of botany could have helped laughing at my
coming in such a hurry to make such a communication. But he agreed how
interesting the phenomenon was, and explained its meaning, but made me
clearly understand how well it was known; so I left him not in the least
mortified, but well pleased at having discovered for myself so remarkable a
fact, but determined not to be in such a hurry again to communicate my
discoveries.

Dr. Whewell was one of the older and distinguished men who sometimes
visited Henslow, and on several occasions I walked home with him at night.
Next to Sir J. Mackintosh he was the best converser on grave subjects to
whom I ever listened. Leonard Jenyns (The well-known Soame Jenyns was
cousin to Mr. Jenyns' father.), who afterwards published some good essays
in Natural History (Mr. Jenyns (now Blomefield) described the fish for the
Zoology of the "Beagle"; and is author of a long series of papers, chiefly
Zoological.), often stayed with Henslow, who was his brother-in-law. I
visited him at his parsonage on the borders of the Fens [Swaffham Bulbeck],
and had many a good walk and talk with him about Natural History. I became
also acquainted with several other men older than me, who did not care much
about science, but were friends of Henslow. One was a Scotchman, brother
of Sir Alexander Ramsay, and tutor of Jesus College: he was a delightful
man, but did not live for many years. Another was Mr. Dawes, afterwards
Dean of Hereford, and famous for his success in the education of the poor.
These men and others of the same standing, together with Henslow, used
sometimes to take distant excursions into the country, which I was allowed
to join, and they were most agreeable.

Looking back, I infer that there must have been something in me a little
superior to the common run of youths, otherwise the above-mentioned men, so
much older than me and higher in academical position, would never have
allowed me to associate with them. Certainly I was not aware of any such
superiority, and I remember one of my sporting friends, Turner, who saw me
at work with my beetles, saying that I should some day be a Fellow of the
Royal Society, and the notion seemed to me preposterous.

During my last year at Cambridge, I read with care and profound interest
Humboldt's 'Personal Narrative.' This work, and Sir J. Herschel's
'Introduction to the Study of Natural Philosophy,' stirred up in me a
burning zeal to add even the most humble contribution to the noble
structure of Natural Science. No one or a dozen other books influenced me
nearly so much as these two. I copied out from Humboldt long passages
about Teneriffe, and read them aloud on one of the above-mentioned
excursions, to (I think) Henslow, Ramsay, and Dawes, for on a previous
occasion I had talked about the glories of Teneriffe, and some of the party
declared they would endeavour to go there; but I think that they were only
half in earnest. I was, however, quite in earnest, and got an introduction
to a merchant in London to enquire about ships; but the scheme was, of
course, knocked on the head by the voyage of the "Beagle".

My summer vacations were given up to collecting beetles, to some reading,
and short tours. In the autumn my whole time was devoted to shooting,
chiefly at Woodhouse and Maer, and sometimes with young Eyton of Eyton.
Upon the whole the three years which I spent at Cambridge were the most
joyful in my happy life; for I was then in excellent health, and almost
always in high spirits.

As I had at first come up to Cambridge at Christmas, I was forced to keep
two terms after passing my final examination, at the commencement of 1831;
and Henslow then persuaded me to begin the study of geology. Therefore on
my return to Shropshire I examined sections, and coloured a map of parts
round Shrewsbury. Professor Sedgwick intended to visit North Wales in the
beginning of August to pursue his famous geological investigations amongst
the older rocks, and Henslow asked him to allow me to accompany him. (In
connection with this tour my father used to tell a story about Sedgwick:
they had started from their inn one morning, and had walked a mile or two,
when Sedgwick suddenly stopped, and vowed that he would return, being
certain "that damned scoundrel" (the waiter) had not given the chambermaid
the sixpence intrusted to him for the purpose. He was ultimately persuaded
to give up the project, seeing that there was no reason for suspecting the
waiter of especial perfidy.--F.D.) Accordingly he came and slept at my
father's house.

A short conversation with him during this evening produced a strong
impression on my mind. Whilst examining an old gravel-pit near Shrewsbury,
a labourer told me that he had found in it a large worn tropical Volute
shell, such as may be seen on the chimney-pieces of cottages; and as he
would not sell the shell, I was convinced that he had really found it in
the pit. I told Sedgwick of the fact, and he at once said (no doubt truly)
that it must have been thrown away by some one into the pit; but then
added, if really embedded there it would be the greatest misfortune to
geology, as it would overthrow all that we know about the superficial
deposits of the Midland Counties. These gravel-beds belong in fact to the
glacial period, and in after years I found in them broken arctic shells.
But I was then utterly astonished at Sedgwick not being delighted at so
wonderful a fact as a tropical shell being found near the surface in the
middle of England. Nothing before had ever made me thoroughly realise,
though I had read various scientific books, that science consists in
grouping facts so that general laws or conclusions may be drawn from them.

Next morning we started for Llangollen, Conway, Bangor, and Capel Curig.
This tour was of decided use in teaching me a little how to make out the
geology of a country. Sedgwick often sent me on a line parallel to his,
telling me to bring back specimens of the rocks and to mark the
stratification on a map. I have little doubt that he did this for my good,
as I was too ignorant to have aided him. On this tour I had a striking
instance of how easy it is to overlook phenomena, however conspicuous,
before they have been observed by any one. We spent many hours in Cwm
Idwal, examining all the rocks with extreme care, as Sedgwick was anxious
to find fossils in them; but neither of us saw a trace of the wonderful
glacial phenomena all around us; we did not notice the plainly scored
rocks, the perched boulders, the lateral and terminal moraines. Yet these
phenomena are so conspicuous that, as I declared in a paper published many
years afterwards in the 'Philosophical Magazine' ('Philosophical Magazine,'
1842.), a house burnt down by fire did not tell its story more plainly than
did this valley. If it had still been filled by a glacier, the phenomena
would have been less distinct than they now are.

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