| THE ORIGIN A Biographical Novel of Charles Darwin Irving Stone Jean Stone (ed.) Allan Nevins (Fwd.) New York: Signet, September 1982 (© 1980 Irving Stone) |
Rating: 5.0 High |
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| ISBN-13 978-0-451-11761-8 | ||||
| ISBN-10 0-451-11761-1 | 774pp. | SC | $4.50 | |
Irving Stone was renowned for his biographical novels of great men and women of history — men like Vincent van Gogh (Lust for Life) or Jessie Benton Fremont (Immortal Wife.) He also wrote some conventional biographies, as with Jack London (Sailor on Horseback.) In his Foreword, Allan Nevins praised Stone effusively for his dedication to accuracy even when, as here, he allows imagination some leeway in portraying the life of his subject.
As a young man, Charles Darwin himself seems unsettled. On the wishes of his father, a well-respected physician, he undertakes the study of medicine. But he soon finds he has no love of surgery, and the anatomy lectures bore him to tears. Confronted by his father, he promises to take up study for the ministry. His father is somewhat mollified with that pledge. Meanwhile Charles, now in his late teens or early twenties, takes off on a three week geology expedition to Wales with Professor Sedgewick. This expedition Irving Stone describes in detail. The pair ride in Sedgewick's gig through all kinds of weather, and often leave the horse and carriage to tramp up into the hills collecting rock specimens. Sometimes they separate, Darwin taking his own path across the formations,1 classifying what he sees in his nightly notes for Sedgewick's approbation. He apparently learns a good deal (including the fact that Sedgewick has his eccentricities.) When he returns, bounding up the hill to The Mount, the family residence, his sisters hand him a pair of letters that changes his life. It seems he is offered a voyage on a ship commanded by one Captain FitzRoy...2 One is from young Darwin's mentor, Professor John Stevens Henslow:
My Dear Darwin, I shall hope to see you shortly fully expecting that you will eagerly catch at the offer which is likely to be made to you of a trip to Tierra del Fuego & home by the East Indies. I have been asked by Peacock, who will read and forward this to you from London, to recommend him a naturalist... – Page 37 |
And catch at it he does, once he recovers from his initial shock at the magnitude of the unexpected opportunity. But there are difficulties. His father, noted physician Robert Darwin, withholds his consent, thinking the long voyage will leave his son a wastrel who will never pursue a proper career. Charles has already balked at becoming a doctor like his father, finding anatomy lectures boring and blanching at performing an operation. He now promises his father that he will become a clergyman on his return. It is a well-respected profession in England at this time, and offers the chance to participate fully in civic life, even to writing books or undertaking scientific investigation.
It was natural then for college graduates, unless they showed a strong bent for the military, medicine, or mechanical engineering, to train in theology and later be ordained in some church. The nation had an official state religion: The Church of England. Ordainment as a deacon or curate, the lowest ranks in the church hierarchy, was much like earning an MBA and starting in management is today. It marked one as a gentleman and gave considerable time for outside activities.
There was no hurry about the ordination; his father did not press him, nor did the Church of England set any specific time after graduation when young theologians were obliged to be ordained. There would be a wait of a year or two in any event before a deaconship or curate's office would become available. The deacon or curate was at the bottom of the ecclesiastical ladder; assistant to the vicar or, if at a wealthier church, apprentice priest to a rector. The bishop of his diocese would make the appointment. If the duties of a curate were modest, and the pay equally so, Charles did not mind. The light job of work would leave him free for his collecting and pursuing of the natural histories, along with hunting, which he adored, the great enjoyment of his life. – Page 5 |
Natural too, in the sense of being the accepted order of things, was that science was deemed anti-religious. Cambridge University, established 600 years before to train theologians, taught science, but awarded no degrees in scientific fields. It was Professor Henslow who changed that position, in concert with Adam Sedgewick, a geology professor. Henslow had taught mineralogy; he now held the chair in botany and was an inveterate collector of insects.3
But Charles rides to Maer House, home of the Wedgewoods, and consults his uncle Josiah Wedgewood, a most sagacious councillor. "Uncle Jos" writes a letter to Robert Darwin, then decides to deliver it in person, and turns the elder Darwin around. Then Charles's only problems are to make ready for the voyage, and the long delays in getting the ship under weigh due to supply, refitting, and weather problems. A sociable chap, he endures all waiting with aplomb, getting on well with Captain FitzRoy and his shipmates. Rough seas are another matter entirely: Charles is invariably seasick, spending much miserable time at the rail. But on land he is a veritable tiger. No hill is so high, no trek so lengthy, no weather so inclement, no locals so unruly as to dissuade him from venturing forth to make observations, take notes, and collect samples of plant and animal life, rocks, and fossils. He learns much, and the ship's carpenter faithfully constructs carriers for the volumes of material he brings back, assuring them safe transport back to England where they delight the various academic specialists who receive them.
His youthful exuberance assures that he invariably has a good time at these expeditions, whether in the company of Argentine gauchos, English expatriates, or his friends from the crew. And his trips are boundlessly productive. Think of that time, before the exotic locales he explored had known the tramp of many civilized feet: places like St. Paul's Rocks, Fernando de Noronha, or the Abrolhos Islands. Plants are pristine, animals are abundant and often unafraid, precious minerals lie underfoot for the taking, and fossil bones of prehistoric specimens protrude from bluffs at trailside.
Reading Stone's lovingly detailed account, one gets the impression, even before the Beagle voyage is laid in his lap. that Charles Darwin is a very fortunate son indeed. He visits with friends at a whim, roams the countryside at will, partakes of a very comfortable home life, with servants to unburden him of tedious chores like preparing his food, and has no material wants. But it soon becomes clear that he, and others of his class, earn their privileges by dint of dedicated application to some profession. Robert Darwin's life, as an example, consists of day-long rounds in his carriage visiting patients around the Shrewsbury countryside, among whom he has an outstanding reputation for successful treatment. Charles proves equally dedicated, aboard the Beagle and afterward — only in his case it is a dedication to scientific discovery that drives him to indefatigable researches and exacting scholarship, and leads to many discoveries other than the momentous one for which he is ranked among the greatest scientists: the theory of evolution by natural selection.
But it seems there is a price to be paid. I don't mean the scorn and obstruction Darwin had to endure because of his controversial theories. As physically hardy as he had been in youth, Darwin suffered with precarious health in his later years; he endured bouts of indigestion, headaches, probably even depression. All this, it seems, can be traced to overwork and an inherent sense of self-doubt about the worth of his professional contributions. Despite these handicaps, he turned out an enormous volume of work, writing many original papers even as he revised his books for new editions again and again. And the books proved popular, often selling in quantities unusually large for scientific books in those times.
The Origin is a long book, and it contains a number of mistakes — not just grammatical errors, but confusing or contradictory statements. Also, the sheer amount of detail can bog down the reader. (No doubt Stone spent much time winnowing down the voluminous material available to him for the book.) Nevertheless, the tale is a fascinating one, and I trust few readers will find it so dense as to be unreadable. I recommend it, though not as a keeper.
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