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Authors: David Quammen
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category by category: the fossil record, geographical distribution, systematic classification of species based on morphological resemblances, rudimentary organs (such as the wings of the apteryx), all of which tended to affirm the idea of transmutation and to belie special creation. Then he wrote a conclusion, highlighting as a sample case three species of Asian rhinocerosâthose from Java, Sumatra, and Indiaâand noting that a creationist would believe all three originated, with their âdeceptive appearanceâ of close kinship, from separate acts of divine will. As for himself, Darwin wrote, he could just as well believe that the planets revolve in their orbits ânot from one law of gravity but from distinct volition of Creator.â If all species are handmade by God, then a person might also assume that Mars and Jupiter fly around because Heâs playing them like yo-yos. Thatâs unlikely. Maybe even blasphemous. Wasnât the deity, if any existed, too sublimely transcendent for what weâd now call micromanagement? Darwin was suggesting an idea even larger than natural selection: that the universe is governed by laws, not by divine whim, and that the transmutation of species by natural selection is merely one of those laws.
He finished the rough sketch with a burst of eloquence. It was oddly consoling, Darwin noted, that from the hard Malthusian struggle involving âdeath, famine, rapine, and the concealed war of natureâ had come a great good, the creation of the higher animals. âThere is a simple grandeur,â he wrote,
in the view of life with its powers of growth, assimilation and reproduction, being originally breathed into matter under one or a few forms, and that whilst this our planet has gone circling on according to fixed laws, and land and water, in a cycle of change, have gone on replacing each other, that from so simple an origin, through the process of gradual selection of infinitesimal changes, endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been evolved.
He had made a big move toward putting his thoughts forward. But it was only a private memo to himself. And even in private he had fudged on one thing: no mention of the origins of man.
9
Late that summer London was a mess, more so than usual, with police and Guards units on alert against possible rioting by Chartist demonstrators. A radical editor was tried and convicted of publishing âimpious doctrinesâ such as atheism and socialism, as flavored in his news rag with a vague, political version of transmutationism. Across the country, half a million workers had gone out on a general strike for the Chartist demands, and military units were moving north to restore order in mill cities like Manchester. Troops in London faced off, with fixed bayonets, against hollering protesters not far from where the Darwins lived. It seemed the right time to do what Charles and Emma had been contemplating for a year: buy a home in the country and get away.
After some careful house-hunting, they chose a place in a somnolent little village called Down, in Kent, sixteen miles southeast of central London. Sixteen miles then meant two hours by horse and carriage, distance enough to give them tranquility but allow Darwin to commute back on special occasions for scientific business. The property itself, known as Down House, had once served as the village parsonage; lately it stood vacant, musty and unsold. It was a big house with multiple bedrooms, a fixer-upper at a bargain price, and it came with 18 acres of land. Helped by a loan from Darwinâs father, they grabbed it. By late September they were in residence, not knowing that this would be their sole home and treasured refuge for the rest of their lives. Darwin himself may have hoped exactly that. The Beagle voyage had sated his appetite for travel and he felt ready to be a homebody. His wife was less enthusiastic about this drab house and the flat Kentish
He finished the rough sketch with a burst of eloquence. It was oddly consoling, Darwin noted, that from the hard Malthusian struggle involving âdeath, famine, rapine, and the concealed war of natureâ had come a great good, the creation of the higher animals. âThere is a simple grandeur,â he wrote,
in the view of life with its powers of growth, assimilation and reproduction, being originally breathed into matter under one or a few forms, and that whilst this our planet has gone circling on according to fixed laws, and land and water, in a cycle of change, have gone on replacing each other, that from so simple an origin, through the process of gradual selection of infinitesimal changes, endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been evolved.
He had made a big move toward putting his thoughts forward. But it was only a private memo to himself. And even in private he had fudged on one thing: no mention of the origins of man.
9
Late that summer London was a mess, more so than usual, with police and Guards units on alert against possible rioting by Chartist demonstrators. A radical editor was tried and convicted of publishing âimpious doctrinesâ such as atheism and socialism, as flavored in his news rag with a vague, political version of transmutationism. Across the country, half a million workers had gone out on a general strike for the Chartist demands, and military units were moving north to restore order in mill cities like Manchester. Troops in London faced off, with fixed bayonets, against hollering protesters not far from where the Darwins lived. It seemed the right time to do what Charles and Emma had been contemplating for a year: buy a home in the country and get away.
After some careful house-hunting, they chose a place in a somnolent little village called Down, in Kent, sixteen miles southeast of central London. Sixteen miles then meant two hours by horse and carriage, distance enough to give them tranquility but allow Darwin to commute back on special occasions for scientific business. The property itself, known as Down House, had once served as the village parsonage; lately it stood vacant, musty and unsold. It was a big house with multiple bedrooms, a fixer-upper at a bargain price, and it came with 18 acres of land. Helped by a loan from Darwinâs father, they grabbed it. By late September they were in residence, not knowing that this would be their sole home and treasured refuge for the rest of their lives. Darwin himself may have hoped exactly that. The Beagle voyage had sated his appetite for travel and he felt ready to be a homebody. His wife was less enthusiastic about this drab house and the flat Kentish
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