Charles Darwin And The Beagle
By Alan Moorehead
Published in 1969, this book was magnificent fun to read, getting itself read from start to finish with only a few hour’s sleep in between.
One would imagine that there’s nothing new about Darwin. Rare must it be to encounter an idiot who couldn’t place the name, even if they persist in denying what Darwin proffered.
This book provides so much that was new to me though, and did so in what was a comfortable, leisurely read. We start off with a beardless 22-year-old Darwin, who is getting ready for a career in the church. He is approached with the author of a two-year trip as a ship’s naturalist, which proves problematic for him, since going will likely be against his father’s wishes. He politely declines, only for an appalled friend to demand an audience with his father, during which he rebuts each of the father’s objection, the latterly belatedly giving his blessing.
Off shoots Darwin, hoping to catch the ship before his initial refusal sees him tied to the land.
He meets the captain, a product of his time called FitzRoy, a fervent believer in the literal truth of Genesis. Unbeknownst to me, so was Darwin at the time, so there was no conflict or acrimony upon their initial meeting. Indeed, FitzRoy offered Darwin a share of his cabin, although the plethora of chronometers that the captain affixed took up a lot of the very little space anyway, such that Darwin would have to remove a drawer from a cupboard in which to lay his feet when he slept.
There is so much on this adventure that was beguiling to read. I had to continually remind myself that plate tectonics and evolution were not even ideas at the time, yet Darwin observes how sea levels must have changed, the isthmus at Panama, for example, explaining how predator animals would have emerged from the north American continent to the south to prey on the huge indigenous animals whose fossils he had discovered.
He later lives through a huge destructive earthquake, and notices how the land has arisen after it has passed. Suddenly he has an explanation for volcanoes and mountains, and his theory is evidenced by the findings of plant fossils at different heights of the plains that he climbs day in and day out, for Darwin was a man of exceptional fitness.
His relationship with FitzRoy devolves into acrimony, the latter not willing to acknowledge the evidence of the former. Darwin’s mind is churning over now, his trust in the absolute truth of Genesis (and the calculation by religious scholars of the earth’s creation occurring 6000 years prior) disappearing in the weight of evidence against. A visit to the Galapagos islands provides the missing link in his thought chain, and it is from his research here that the idea of the fittest surviving to reproduce at the expense of the weakest occurred.
This was fascinating to me, so deliciously explained, much better than reading some murder-mystery and seeing how the detective reaches his conclusions. It was helped by unrelated stories, such as Darwin’s horror at watching the mistreatment of slaves, bought to a head to him when he gesticulated when trying to ask a question of one, and the poor man lowered his head and kneeled, waiting for the blows to rain down, resigned to their arrival and not intending to defend himself.
The two-year voyage became four years, and Darwin, who never got over his chronic seasickness, finally gave way to homesickness, becoming desperate to return to his family.
His relationship with FitzRoy was in tatters, Darwin not being prepared to stop theorising based on intuition and evidence, FitzRoy not prepared to countenance that Genesis could be anything other than literal truth.
Aware that this reaction would be magnified a thousandfold back home, Darwin resolved to only publish his theories after his death. He was spurned into action somewhat earlier when a student asked his advice on something similar to Darwin’s own work that he intended to publish shortly.
Reaction was mixed, the traditionalists every bit as vehement as he feared, but support much more vocal than he had expected. A debate was initiated at Oxford by the “Association for the advancement of science”, ‘Soapy Sam’ Wilberforce, a formidable cleric, threatening to “smash Darwin”.
Unfortunately, the postulator of these theories was unable to attend. Darwin, supremely fit during his voyage, had become seriously ill by the age of 28, the curse of having been bitten by the poisonous benchuca beetle.
Darwin’s supporters were saved by the insolence of Wilberforce, who had presented a poor but forceful argument, then singled out T L Huxley in the crowd and posed him an insulting question about whether it was his father or mother’s side which were apes. Huxley, there by chance, was not a man to mess with, responding to the antagonism by performing an inpromptu dissection of Wilberforce.
From the crowd an old man tried to interject, holding a bible in the air and proclaiming it to be the only truth. It was FitzRoy, the friend-turned-enemy, just five years away from taking his own life in a fit of depression.
A top book. I can’t think that anyone would have the luck to find a copy, but I’m totally enthralled by it and loved reading it.
Tags: Darwin