CHAPTER 1.VI. -- THE VOYAGE.

"There is a natural good-humoured energy in his letters just like

himself."--From a letter of Dr. R.W. Darwin's to Prof. Henslow.

[The object of the "Beagle" voyage is briefly described in my father's

'Journal of Researches,' page 1, as being "to complete the Survey of

Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego, commenced under Captain King in 1826

to 1830; to survey the shores of Chile, Peru, and some island in the

Pacific; and to carry a chain of chronometrical measurements round the

world."]

The "Beagle" is described as a well-built little vessel, of 235 tons,

rigged as a barque, and carrying six guns. She belonged to the old class

of ten-gun brigs, which were nicknamed "coffins," from their liability

to go down in severe weather. They were very "deep-waisted," that is,

their bulwarks were high in proportion to their size, so that a heavy

sea breaking over them might be highly dangerous. Nevertheless, she

lived through the five years' work, in the most stormy regions in the

world, under Commanders Stokes and Fitz-Roy, without a serious accident.

When re-commissioned in 1831 for her second voyage, she was found (as

I learn from Admiral Sir James Sulivan) to be so rotten that she had

practically to be rebuilt, and it was this that caused the long delay

in refitting. The upper deck was raised, making her much safer in heavy

weather, and giving her far more comfortable accommodation below. By

these alterations and by the strong sheathing added to her bottom

she was brought up to 242 tons burthen. It is a proof of the splendid

seamanship of Captain Fitz-Roy and his officers that she returned

without having carried away a spar, and that in only one of the heavy

storms that she encountered was she in great danger.

She was fitted out for the expedition with all possible care, being

supplied with carefully chosen spars and ropes, six boats, and a

"dinghy;" lightning conductors, "invented by Mr. Harris, were fixed in

all the masts, the bowsprits, and even in the flying jib-boom." To quote

my father's description, written from Devonport, November 17, 1831:

"Everybody, who can judge, says it is one of the grandest voyages

that has almost ever been sent out. Everything is on a grand scale.

Twenty-four chronometers. The whole ship is fitted up with mahogany;

she is the admiration of the whole place. In short, everything is as

prosperous as human means can make it."

Owing to the smallness of the vessel, every one on board was cramped for

room, and my father's accommodation seems to have been small enough: "I

have just room to turn round," he writes to Henslow, "and that is all."

Admiral Sir James Sulivan writes to me: "The narrow space at the end of

the chart-table was his only accommodation for working, dressing, and

sleeping; the hammock being left hanging over his head by day, when the

sea was at all rough, that he might lie on it with a book in his hand

when he could not any longer sit at the table. His only stowage for

clothes being several small drawers in the corner, reaching from deck to

deck; the top one being taken out when the hammock was hung up, without

which there was not length for it, so then the foot-clews took the place

of the top drawer. For specimens he had a very small cabin under the

forecastle."

Yet of this narrow room he wrote enthusiastically, September 17, 1831:--

"When I wrote last I was in great alarm about my cabin. The cabins were

not then marked out, but when I left they were, and mine is a capital

one, certainly next best to the Captain's and remarkably light. My

companion most luckily, I think, will turn out to be the officer whom I

shall like best. Captain Fitz-Roy says he will take care that one corner

is so fitted up that I shall be comfortable in it and shall consider

it my home, but that also I shall have the run of his. My cabin is the

drawing one; and in the middle is a large table, on which we two sleep

in hammocks. But for the first two months there will be no drawing to

be done, so that it will be quite a luxurious room, and good deal larger

than the Captain's cabin."

My father used to say that it was the absolute necessity of tidiness

in the cramped space of the "Beagle" that helped 'to give him his

methodical habits of working.' On the "Beagle", too, he would say, that

he learned what he considered the golden rule for saving time; i.e.,

taking care of the minutes.

Sir James Sulivan tells me that the chief fault in the outfit of the

expedition was the want of a second smaller vessel to act as tender.

This want was so much felt by Captain Fitz-Roy that he hired two decked

boats to survey the coast of Patagonia, at a cost of 1100 pounds, a sum

which he had to supply, although the boats saved several thousand pounds

to the country. He afterwards bought a schooner to act as a tender, thus

saving the country a further large amount. He was ultimately ordered to

sell the schooner, and was compelled to bear the loss himself, and it

was only after his death that some inadequate compensation was made for

all the losses which he suffered through his zeal.

For want of a proper tender, much of the work had to be done in small

open whale boats, which were sent away from the ship for weeks together,

and this in a climate, where the crews were exposed to severe hardships

from the almost constant rains, which sometimes continued for weeks

together. The completeness of the equipment was also in other respects

largely due to the public spirit of Captain Fitz-Roy. He provided at

his own cost an artist, and a skilled instrument-maker to look after

the chronometers. (Either one or both were on the books for victuals.)

Captain Fitz-Roy's wish was to take "some well-educated and scientific

person" as his private guest, but this generous offer was only accepted

by my father on condition of being allowed to pay a fair share of the

expense of the Captain's table; he was, moreover, on the ship's books

for victuals.

In a letter to his sister (July 1832) he writes contentedly of his

manner of life at sea:--"I do not think I have ever given you an account

of how the day passes. We breakfast at eight o'clock. The invariable

maxim is to throw away all politeness--that is, never to wait for each

other, and bolt off the minute one has done eating, etc. At sea, when

the weather is calm, I work at marine animals, with which the whole

ocean abounds. If there is any sea up I am either sick or contrive to

read some voyage or travels. At one we dine. You shore-going people are

lamentably mistaken about the manner of living on board. We have never

yet (nor shall we) dined off salt meat. Rice and peas and calavanses are

excellent vegetables, and, with good bread, who could want more? Judge

Alderson could not be more temperate, as nothing but water comes on the

table. At five we have tea. The midshipmen's berth have all their meals

an hour before us, and the gun-room an hour afterwards."

The crew of the "Beagle" consisted of Captain Fitz-Roy, "Commander and

Surveyor," two lieutenants, one of whom (the first lieutenant) was the

late Captain Wickham, Governor of Queensland; the present Admiral Sir

James Sulivan, K.C.B., was the second lieutenant. Besides the master

and two mates, there was an assistant-surveyor, the present Admiral Lort

Stokes. There were also a surgeon, assistant-surgeon, two midshipmen,

master's mate, a volunteer (1st class), purser, carpenter, clerk,

boatswain, eight marines, thirty-four seamen, and six boys.

There are not now (1882) many survivors of my father's old ship-mates.

Admiral Mellersh, Mr. Hammond, and Mr. Philip King, of the Legislative

Council of Sydney, and Mr. Usborne, are among the number. Admiral

Johnson died almost at the same time as my father.

He retained to the last a most pleasant recollection of the voyage of

the "Beagle", and of the friends he made on board her. To his children

their names were familiar, from his many stories of the voyage, and we

caught his feeling of friendship for many who were to us nothing more

than names.

It is pleasant to know how affectionately his old companions remembered

him.

Sir James Sulivan remained, throughout my father's lifetime, one of

his best and truest friends. He writes:--"I can confidently express my

belief that during the five years in the "Beagle", he was never known to

be out of temper, or to say one unkind or hasty word OF or TO any

one. You will therefore readily understand how this, combined with the

admiration of his energy and ability, led to our giving him the name of

'the dear old Philosopher.'" (His other nickname was "The Flycatcher." I

have heard my father tell how he overheard the boatswain of the "Beagle"

showing another boatswain over the ship, and pointing out the

officers: "That's our first lieutenant; that's our doctor; that's our

flycatcher.") Admiral Mellersh writes to me:--"Your father is as vividly

in my mind's eye as if it was only a week ago that I was in the "Beagle"

with him; his genial smile and conversation can never be forgotten by

any who saw them and heard them. I was sent on two or three occasions

away in a boat with him on some of his scientific excursions, and always

looked forward to these trips with great pleasure, an anticipation that,

unlike many others, was always realised. I think he was the only man

I ever knew against whom I never heard a word said; and as people when

shut up in a ship for five years are apt to get cross with each other,

that is saying a good deal. Certainly we were always so hard at work, we

had no time to quarrel, but if we had done so, I feel sure your father

would have tried (and have been successful) to throw oil on the troubled

waters."

Admiral Stokes, Mr. King, Mr. Usborne, and Mr. Hamond, all speak of

their friendship with him in the same warm-hearted way.

Of the life on board and on shore his letters give some idea. Captain

Fitz-Roy was a strict officer, and made himself thoroughly respected

both by officers and men. The occasional severity of his manner was

borne with because every one on board knew that his first thought was

his duty, and that he would sacrifice anything to the real welfare

of the ship. My father writes, July 1834, "We all jog on very well

together, there is no quarrelling on board, which is something to say.

The Captain keeps all smooth by rowing every one in turn." The best

proof that Fitz-Roy was valued as a commander is given by the fact that

many ('Voyage of the "Adventure" and "Beagle",' vol. ii. page 21.) of

the crew had sailed with him in the "Beagle's" former voyage, and there

were a few officers as well as seamen and marines, who had served in the

"Adventure" or "Beagle" during the whole of that expedition.

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.

We then sailed for Bahia, and touched at the rock of St. Paul. This is a

serpentine formation. Is it not the only island in the Atlantic which

is not volcanic? We likewise stayed a few hours at Fernando Noronha; a

tremendous surf was running so that a boat was swamped, and the Captain

would not wait. I find my life on board when we are on blue water most

delightful, so very comfortable and quiet--it is almost impossible to

be idle, and that for me is saying a good deal. Nobody could possibly be

better fitted in every respect for collecting than I am; many cooks

have not spoiled the broth this time. Mr. Brown's little hints about

microscopes, etc., have been invaluable. I am well off in books, the

'Dictionnaire Classique' IS MOST USEFUL. If you should think of any

thing or book that would be useful to me, if you would write one line,

E. Darwin, Wyndham Club, St. James's Street, he will procure them, and

send them with some other things to Monte Video, which for the next year

will be my headquarters.

Touching at the Abrolhos, we arrived here on April 4th, when amongst

others I received your most kind letter. You may rely on it during the

evening I thought of the many most happy hours I have spent with you in

Cambridge. I am now living at Botofogo, a village about a league from

the city, and shall be able to remain a month longer. The "Beagle" has

gone back to Bahia, and will pick me up on its return. There is a most

important error in the longitude of South America, to settle which this

second trip has been undertaken. Our chronometers, at least sixteen

of them, are going superbly; none on record have ever gone at all like

them.

A few days after arriving I started on an expedition of 150 miles to Rio

Macao, which lasted eighteen days. Here I first saw a tropical forest in

all its sublime grander--nothing but the reality can give any idea how

wonderful, how magnificent the scene is. If I was to specify any one

thing I should give the pre-eminence to the host of parasitical plants.

Your engraving is exactly true, but underrates rather than exaggerates

the luxuriance. I never experienced such intense delight. I formerly

admired Humboldt, I now almost adore him; he alone gives any notion of

the feelings which are raised in the mind on first entering the Tropics.

I am now collecting fresh-water and land animals; if what was told me in

London is true, viz., that there are no small insects in the collections

from the Tropics, I tell Entomologists to look out and have their pens

ready for describing. I have taken as minute (if not more so) as in

England, Hydropori, Hygroti, Hydrobii, Pselaphi, Staphylini, Curculio,

etc. etc. It is exceedingly interesting observing the difference of

genera and species from those which I know, it is however much less

than I had expected. I am at present red-hot with spiders; they are

very interesting, and if I am not mistaken I have already taken some

new genera. I shall have a large box to send very soon to Cambridge, and

with that I will mention some more natural history particulars.

The Captain does everything in his power to assist me, and we get on

very well, but I thank my better fortune he has not made me a renegade

to Whig principles. I would not be a Tory, if it was merely on account

of their cold hearts about that scandal to Christian nations--Slavery. I

am very good friends with all the officers.

I have just returned from a walk, and as a specimen, how little the

insects are known. Noterus, according to the 'Dictionary Classique,'

contains solely three European species. I in one haul of my net took

five distinct species; is this not quite extraordinary?...

Tell Professor Sedgwick he does not know how much I am indebted to him

for the Welsh Expedition; it has given me an interest in Geology which

I would not give up for any consideration. I do not think I ever spent

a more delightful three weeks than pounding the North-west Mountains. I

look forward to the geology about Monte Video as I hear there are slates

there, so I presume in that district I shall find the junctions of the

Pampas, and the enormous granite formation of Brazils. At Bahia the

pegmatite and gneiss in beds had the same direction, as observed by

Humboldt, prevailing over Columbia, distant 1300 miles--is it not

wonderful? Monte Video will be for a long time my direction. I hope

you will write again to me, there is nobody from whom I like receiving

advice so much as from you...Excuse this almost unintelligible letter,

and believe me, my dear Henslow, with the warmest feelings of respect

and friendship,

Yours affectionately, CHAS. DARWIN.

CHARLES DARWIN TO J.M. HERBERT. Botofogo Bay, Rio de Janeiro, June 1832.

My dear old Herbert,

Your letter arrived here when I had given up all hopes of receiving

another, it gave me, therefore, an additional degree of pleasure. At

such an interval of time and space one does learn to feel truly obliged

to those who do not forget one. The memory when recalling scenes past

by, affords to us EXILES one of the greatest pleasures. Often and often

whilst wandering amongst these hills do I think of Barmouth, and, I may

add, as often wish for such a companion. What a contrast does a walk

in these two places afford; here abrupt and stony peaks are to the very

summit enclosed by luxuriant woods; the whole surface of the country,

excepting where cleared by man, is one impenetrable forest. How

different from Wales, with its sloping hills covered with turf, and

its open valleys. I was not previously aware how intimately what may be

called the moral part is connected with the enjoyment of scenery. I mean

such ideas, as the history of the country, the utility of the produce,

and more especially the happiness of the people living with them. Change

the English labourer into a poor slave, working for another, and you

will hardly recognise the same view. I am sure you will be glad to hear

how very well every part (Heaven forefend, except sea-sickness) of the

expedition has answered. We have already seen Teneriffe and the Great

Canary; St. Jago where I spent three most delightful weeks, revelling

in the delights of first naturalising a tropical volcanic island, and

besides other islands, the two celebrated ports in the Brazils, viz.

Bahia and Rio.

I was in my hammock till we arrived at the Canaries, and I shall never

forget the sublime impression the first view of Teneriffe made on

my mind. The first arriving into warm weather was most luxuriously

pleasant; the clear blue sky of the Tropics was no common change after

those accursed south-west gales at Plymouth. About the Line it became

weltering hot. We spent one day at St. Paul's, a little group of rocks

about a quarter of a mile in circumference, peeping up in the midst of

the Atlantic. There was such a scene here. Wickham (1st Lieutenant) and

I were the only two who landed with guns and geological hammers, etc.

The birds by myriads were too close to shoot; we then tried stones, but

at last, proh pudor! my geological hammer was the instrument of death.

We soon loaded the boat with birds and eggs. Whilst we were so engaged,

the men in the boat were fairly fighting with the sharks for such

magnificent fish as you could not see in the London market. Our boat

would have made a fine subject for Snyders, such a medley of game it

contained. We have been here ten weeks, and shall now start for Monte

Video, when I look forward to many a gallop over the Pampas. I am

ashamed of sending such a scrambling letter, but if you were to see the

heap of letters on my table you would understand the reason...

I am glad to hear music flourishes so well in Cambridge; but it [is] as

barbarous to talk to me of "celestial concerts" as to a person in Arabia

of cold water. In a voyage of this sort, if one gains many new and great

pleasures, on the other side the loss is not inconsiderable. How should

you like to be suddenly debarred from seeing every person and place,

which you have ever known and loved, for five years? I do assure you I

am occasionally "taken aback" by this reflection; and then for man or

ship it is not so easy to right again. Remember me most sincerely to the

remnant of most excellent fellows whom I have the good luck to know in

Cambridge--I mean Whitley and Watkins. Tell Lowe I am even beneath his

contempt. I can eat salt beef and musty biscuits for dinner. See what a

fall man may come to!

My direction for the next year and a half will be Monte Video.

God bless you, my very dear old Herbert. May you always be happy and

prosperous is my most cordial wish.

Yours affectionately, CHAS. DARWIN.

CHARLES DARWIN TO F. WATKINS. Monte Video, River Plata, August 18, 1832.

My dear Watkins,

I do not feel very sure you will think a letter from one so far distant

will be worth having; I write therefore on the selfish principle of

getting an answer. In the different countries we visit the entire

newness and difference from England only serves to make more keen the

recollection of its scenes and delights. In consequence the pleasure of

thinking of, and hearing from one's former friends, does indeed become

great. Recollect this, and some long winter's evening sit down and send

me a long account of yourself and our friends; both what you have, and

what [you] intend doing; otherwise in three or four more years when I

return you will be all strangers to me. Considering how many months

have passed, we have not in the "Beagle" made much way round the world.

Hitherto everything has well repaid the necessary trouble and loss of

comfort. We stayed three weeks at the Cape de Verds; it was no ordinary

pleasure rambling over the plains of lava under a tropical sun, but when

I first entered on and beheld the luxuriant vegetation in Brazil, it

was realizing the visions in the 'Arabian Nights.' The brilliancy of the

scenery throws one into a delirium of delight, and a beetle hunter is

not likely soon to awaken from it, when whichever way he turns fresh

treasures meet his eye. At Rio de Janeiro three months passed away like

so many weeks. I made a most delightful excursion during this time of

150 miles into the country. I stayed at an estate which is the last of

the cleared ground, behind is one vast impenetrable forest. It is almost

impossible to imagine the quietude of such a life. Not a human being

within some miles interrupts the solitude. To seat oneself amidst the

gloom of such a forest on a decaying trunk, and then think of home, is a

pleasure worth taking some trouble for.

We are at present in a much less interesting country. One single walk

over the undulatory turf plain shows everything which is to be seen.

It is not at all unlike Cambridgeshire, only that every hedge, tree and

hill must be leveled, and arable land turned into pasture. All South

America is in such an unsettled state that we have not entered one port

without some sort of disturbance. At Buenos Ayres a shot came whistling

over our heads; it is a noise I had never before heard, but I found I

had an instinctive knowledge of what it meant. The other day we landed

our men here, and took possession, at the request of the inhabitants, of

the central fort. We philosophers do not bargain for this sort of work,

and I hope there will be no more. We sail in the course of a day or two

to survey the coast of Patagonia; as it is entirely unknown, I expect a

good deal of interest. But already do I perceive the grievous difference

between sailing on these seas and the Equinoctial ocean. In the "Ladies'

Gulf," as the Spaniard's call it, it is so luxurious to sit on deck and

enjoy the coolness of the night, and admire the new constellations of

the South...I wonder when we shall ever meet again; but be it when it

may, few things will give me greater pleasure than to see you again, and

talk over the long time we have passed together.

If you were to meet me at present I certainly should be looked at like a

wild beast, a great grizzly beard and flushing jacket would disfigure

an angel. Believe me, my dear Watkins, with the warmest feelings of

friendship.

Ever yours, CHARLES DARWIN.

CHARLES DARWIN TO J.S. HENSLOW. April 11, 1833.

My dear Henslow,

We are now running up from the Falkland Islands to the Rio Negro (or

Colorado). The "Beagle" will proceed to Monte Video; but if it can be

managed I intend staying at the former place. It is now some months

since we have been at a civilised port; nearly all this time has been

spent in the most southern part of Tierra del Fuego. It is a detestable

place; gales succeed gales with such short intervals that it is

difficult to do anything. We were twenty-three days off Cape Horn, and

could by no means get to the westward. The last and final gale before we

gave up the attempt was unusually severe. A sea stove one of the boats,

and there was so much water on the decks that every place was afloat;

nearly all the paper for drying plants is spoiled, and half of this

curious collection.

We at last ran into harbour, and in the boats got to the west by the

inland channels. As I was one of this party I was very glad of it.

With two boats we went about 300 miles, and thus I had an excellent

opportunity of geologising and seeing much of the savages. The Fuegians

are in a more miserable state of barbarism than I had expected ever to

have seen a human being. In this inclement country they are absolutely

naked, and their temporary houses are like what children make in

summer with boughs of trees. I do not think any spectacle can be more

interesting than the first sight of man in his primitive wildness. It

is an interest which cannot well be imagined until it is experienced.

I shall never forget this when entering Good Success Bay--the yell with

which a party received us. They were seated on a rocky point, surrounded

by the dark forest of beech; as they threw their arms wildly round their

heads, and their long hair streaming, they seemed the troubled spirits

of another world. The climate in some respects is a curious mixture of

severity and mildness; as far as regards the animal kingdom, the

former character prevails; I have in consequence not added much to my

collections.

The Geology of this part of Tierra del Fuego was, as indeed every place

is, to me very interesting. The country is non-fossiliferous, and a

common-place succession of granitic rocks and slates; attempting to

make out the relation of cleavage, strata, etc., etc., was my chief

amusement. The mineralogy, however, of some of the rocks will, I think,

be curious from their resemblance to those of volcanic origin....

After leaving Tierra del Fuego we sailed to the Falklands. I forgot to

mention the fate of the Fuegians whom we took back to their country.

They had become entirely European in their habits and wishes, so much

so that the younger one had forgotten his own language, and their

countrymen paid but very little attention to them. We built houses for

them and planted gardens, but by the time we return again on our passage

round the Horn, I think it will be very doubtful how much of their

property will be left unstolen.

...When I am sea-sick and miserable, it is one of my highest

consolations to picture the future when we again shall be pacing

together the roads round Cambridge. That day is a weary long way off.

We have another cruise to make to Tierra del Fuego next summer, and then

our voyage round the world will really commence. Captain Fitz-Roy has

purchased a large schooner of 170 tons. In many respects it will be a

great advantage having a consort--perhaps it may somewhat shorten our

cruise, which I most cordially hope it may. I trust, however, that

the Coral Reefs and various animals of the Pacific may keep up my

resolution. Remember me most kindly to Mrs. Henslow and all other

friends; I am a true lover of Alma Mater and all its inhabitants.

Believe me, my dear Henslow, Your affectionate and most obliged friend,

CHARLES DARWIN.

CHARLES DARWIN TO MISS C. DARWIN. Maldonado, Rio Plata, May 22, 1833.

...The following business piece is to my father. Having a servant of

my own would be a really great addition to my comfort. For these two

reasons: as at present the Captain has appointed one of the men always

to be with me, but I do not think it just thus to take a seaman out of

the ship; and, secondly, when at sea I am rather badly off for any one

to wait on me. The man is willing to be my servant, and all the expenses

would be under 60 pounds per annum. I have taught him to shoot and skin

birds, so that in my main object he is very useful. I have now left

England nearly a year and a half, and I find my expenses are not above

200 pounds per annum; so that, it being hopeless (from time) to write

for permission, I have come to the conclusion that you would allow me

this expense. But I have not yet resolved to ask the Captain, and the

chances are even that he would not be willing to have an additional man

in the ship. I have mentioned this because for a long time I have been

thinking about it.

JUNE.

I have just received a bundle more letters. I do not know how to thank

you all sufficiently. One from Catherine, February 8th, another from

Susan, March 3rd, together with notes from Caroline and from my father;

give my best love to my father. I almost cried for pleasure at receiving

it; it was very kind thinking of writing to me. My letters are both

few, short, and stupid in return for all yours; but I always ease my

conscience by considering the Journal as a long letter. If I can

manage it, I will, before doubling the Horn, send the rest. I am quite

delighted to find the hide of the Megatherium has given you all some

little interest in my employments. These fragments are not, however,

by any means the most valuable of the geological relics. I trust and

believe that the time spent in this voyage, if thrown away for all other

respects, will produce its full worth in Natural History; and it appears

to me the doing what LITTLE we can to increase the general stock

of knowledge is as respectable an object of life as one can in any

likelihood pursue. It is more the result of such reflections (as I have

already said) than much immediate pleasure which now makes me continue

the voyage, together with the glorious prospect of the future, when

passing the Straits of Magellan, we have in truth the world before us.

Think of the Andes, the luxuriant forest of Guayaquil, the islands

of the South Sea, and New South Wales. How many magnificent and

characteristic views, how many and curious tribes of men we shall see!

What fine opportunities for geology and for studying the infinite host

of living beings! Is not this a prospect to keep up the most flagging

spirit? If I was to throw it away, I don't think I should ever rest

quiet in my grave. I certainly should be a ghost and haunt the British

Museum.

How famously the Ministers appear to be going on. I always much enjoy

political gossip and what you at home think will, etc., etc., take

place. I steadily read up the weekly paper, but it is not sufficient

to guide one's opinion; and I find it a very painful state not to be as

obstinate as a pig in politics. I have watched how steadily the general

feeling, as shown at elections, has been rising against Slavery. What

a proud thing for England if she is the first European nation which

utterly abolishes it! I was told before leaving England that after

living in slave countries all my opinions would be altered; the only

alteration I am aware of is forming a much higher estimate of the negro

character. It is impossible to see a negro and not feel kindly towards

him; such cheerful, open, honest expressions and such fine muscular

bodies. I never saw any of the diminutive Portuguese, with their

murderous countenances, without almost wishing for Brazil to follow the

example of Hayti; and, considering the enormous healthy-looking black

population, it will be wonderful if, at some future day, it does not

take place. There is at Rio a man (I know not his title) who has a

large salary to prevent (I believe) the landing of slaves; he lives

at Botofogo, and yet that was the bay where, during my residence, the

greater number of smuggled slaves were landed. Some of the Anti-Slavery

people ought to question about his office; it was the subject of

conversation at Rio amongst the lower English...

CHARLES DARWIN TO J.M. HERBERT. Maldonado, Rio Plata, June 2, 1833.

My dear Herbert,

I have been confined for the last three days to a miserable dark room,

in an old Spanish house, from the torrents of rain; I am not, therefore,

in very good trim for writing; but, defying the blue devils, I will send

you a few lines, if it is merely to thank you very sincerely for writing

to me. I received your letter, dated December 1st, a short time since.

We are now passing part of the winter in the Rio Plata, after having

had a hard summer's work to the south. Tierra del Fuego is indeed a

miserable place; the ceaseless fury of the gales is quite tremendous.

One evening we saw old Cape Horn, and three weeks afterwards we were

only thirty miles to windward of it. It is a grand spectacle to see all

nature thus raging; but Heaven knows every one in the "Beagle" has seen

enough in this one summer to last them their natural lives.

The first place we landed at was Good Success Bay. It was here Banks

and Solander met such disasters on ascending one of the mountains. The

weather was tolerably fine, and I enjoyed some walks in a wild country,

like that behind Barmouth. The valleys are impenetrable from the

entangled woods, but the higher parts, near the limits of perpetual

snow, are bare. From some of these hills the scenery, from its savage,

solitary character, was most sublime. The only inhabitant of these

heights is the guanaco, and with its shrill neighing it often breaks the

stillness. The consciousness that no European foot had ever trod much

of this ground added to the delight of these rambles. How often and how

vividly have many of the hours spent at Barmouth come before my mind! I

look back to that time with no common pleasure; at this moment I can see

you seated on the hill behind the inn, almost as plainly as if you were

really there. It is necessary to be separated from all which one

has been accustomed to, to know how properly to treasure up such

recollections, and at this distance, I may add, how properly to esteem

such as yourself, my dear old Herbert. I wonder when I shall ever

see you again. I hope it may be, as you say, surrounded with heaps of

parchment; but then there must be, sooner or later, a dear little lady

to take care of you and your house. Such a delightful vision makes me

quite envious. This is a curious life for a regular shore-going person

such as myself; the worst part of it is its extreme length. There

is certainly a great deal of high enjoyment, and on the contrary a

tolerable share of vexation of spirit. Everything, however, shall bend

to the pleasure of grubbing up old bones, and captivating new animals.

By the way, you rank my Natural History labours far too high. I am

nothing more than a lions' provider: I do not feel at all sure that they

will not growl and finally destroy me.

It does one's heart good to hear how things are going on in England.

Hurrah for the honest Whigs! I trust they will soon attack that

monstrous stain on our boasted liberty, Colonial Slavery. I have seen

enough of Slavery and the dispositions of the negroes, to be thoroughly

disgusted with the lies and nonsense one hears on the subject in

England. Thank God, the cold-hearted Tories, who, as J. Mackintosh used

to say, have no enthusiasm, except against enthusiasm, have for the

present run their race. I am sorry, by your letter, to hear you have not

been well, and that you partly attribute it to want of exercise. I wish

you were here amongst the green plains; we would take walks which would

rival the Dolgelly ones, and you should tell stories, which I would

believe, even to a CUBIC FATHOM OF PUDDING. Instead I must take my

solitary ramble, think of Cambridge days, and pick up snakes, beetles

and toads. Excuse this short letter (you know I never studied 'The

Complete Letter-writer'), and believe me, my dear Herbert,

Your affectionate friend, CHARLES DARWIN.

CHARLES DARWIN TO J.S. HENSLOW. East Falkland Island, March, 1834.

...I am quite charmed with Geology, but like the wise animal between

two bundles of hay, I do not know which to like the best; the old

crystalline group of rocks, or the softer and fossiliferous beds. When

puzzling about stratifications, etc., I feel inclined to cry "a fig for

your big oysters, and your bigger megatheriums." But then when digging

out some fine bones, I wonder how any man can tire his arms with

hammering granite. By the way I have not one clear idea about cleavage,

stratification, lines of upheaval. I have no books which tell me much,

and what they do I cannot apply to what I see. In consequence I draw

my own conclusions, and most gloriously ridiculous ones they are, I

sometimes fancy...Can you throw any light into my mind by telling me

what relation cleavage and planes of deposition bear to each other?

And now for my second SECTION, Zoology. I have chiefly been employed

in preparing myself for the South Sea by examining the polypi of the

smaller Corallines in these latitudes. Many in themselves are very

curious, and I think are quite undescribed; there was one appalling one,

allied to a Flustra, which I dare say I mentioned having found to the

northward, where the cells have a movable organ (like a vulture's head,

with a dilatable beak), fixed on the edge. But what is of more general

interest is the unquestionable (as it appears to me) existence of

another species of ostrich, besides the Struthio rhea. All the Gauchos

and Indians state it is the case, and I place the greatest faith in

their observations. I have the head, neck, piece of skin, feathers, and

legs of one. The differences are chiefly in the colour of the feathers

and scales on legs, being feathered below the knees, nidification, and

geographical distribution. So much for what I have lately done; the

prospect before me is full of sunshine, fine weather, glorious scenery,

the geology of the Andes, plains abounding with organic remains (which

perhaps I may have the good luck to catch in the very act of moving),

and lastly, an ocean, its shores abounding with life, so that, if

nothing unforeseen happens, I will stick to the voyage, although for

what I can see this may last till we return a fine set of white-headed

old gentlemen. I have to thank you most cordially for sending me the

books. I am now reading the Oxford 'Report' (The second meeting of the

British Association was held at Oxford in 1832, the following year

it was at Cambridge.); the whole account of your proceedings is most

glorious; you remaining in England cannot well imagine how excessively

interesting I find the reports. I am sure from my own thrilling

sensations when reading them, that they cannot fail to have an excellent

effect upon all those residing in distant colonies, and who have

little opportunity of seeing the periodicals. My hammer has flown with

redoubled force on the devoted blocks; as I thought over the eloquence

of the Cambridge President, I hit harder and harder blows. I hope to

give my arms strength for the Cordilleras. You will send me through

Capt. Beaufort a copy of the Cambridge 'Report.'

I have forgotten to mention that for some time past, and for the future,

I will put a pencil cross on the pill-boxes containing insects, as these

alone will require being kept particularly dry; it may perhaps save you

some trouble. When this letter will go I do not know, as this little

seat of discord has lately been embroiled by a dreadful scene of murder,

and at present there are more prisoners than inhabitants. If a merchant

vessel is chartered to take them to Rio, I will send some specimens

(especially my few plants and seeds). Remember me to all my Cambridge

friends. I love and treasure up every recollection of dear old

Cambridge. I am much obliged to you for putting my name down to poor

Ramsay's monument; I never think of him without the warmest admiration.

Farewell, my dear Henslow.

Believe me your most obliged and affectionate friend, CHARLES DARWIN.

CHARLES DARWIN TO MISS C. DARWIN. East Falkland Island, April 6, 1834.

My dear Catherine,

When this letter will reach you I know not, but probably some man-of-war

will call here before, in the common course of events, I should have

another opportunity of writing....

After visiting some of the southern islands, we beat up through the

magnificent scenery of the Beagle Channel to Jemmy Button's country.

(Jemmy Button, York Minster, and Fuegia Basket, were natives of Tierra

del Fuego, brought to England by Captain Fitz-Roy in his former voyage,

and restored to their country by him in 1832.) We could hardly recognise

poor Jemmy. Instead of the clean, well-dressed stout lad we left him,

we found him a naked, thin, squalid savage. York and Fuegia had moved to

their own country some months ago, the former having stolen all Jemmy's

clothes. Now he had nothing except a bit of blanket round his waist.

Poor Jemmy was very glad to see us, and, with his usual good feeling,

brought several presents (otter-skins, which are most valuable to

themselves) for his old friends. The Captain offered to take him to

England, but this, to our surprise, he at once refused. In the evening

his young wife came alongside and showed us the reason. He was quite

contented. Last year, in the height of his indignation, he said "his

country people no sabe nothing--damned fools"--now they were very good

people, with TOO much to eat, and all the luxuries of life. Jemmy and

his wife paddled away in their canoe loaded with presents, and very

happy. The most curious thing is, that Jemmy, instead of recovering his

own language, has taught all his friends a little English. "J. Button's

canoe" and "Jemmy's wife come," "Give me knife," etc., was said by

several of them.

We then bore away for this island--this little miserable seat of

discord. We found that the Gauchos, under pretence of a revolution, had

murdered and plundered all the Englishmen whom they could catch, and

some of their own countrymen. All the economy at home makes the foreign

movements of England most contemptible. How different from old Spain.

Here we, dog-in-the-manger fashion, seize an island, and leave to

protect it a Union Jack; the possessor has, of course, been murdered;

we now send a lieutenant with four sailors, without authority or

instructions. A man-of-war, however, ventured to leave a party of

marines, and by their assistance, and the treachery of some of the

party, the murderers have all been taken, there being now as many

prisoners as inhabitants. This island must some day become a very

important halting-place in the most turbulent sea in the world. It is

mid-way between Australia and the South Sea to England; between Chili,

Peru, etc., and the Rio Plata and the Rio de Janeiro. There are fine

harbours, plenty of fresh water, and good beef. It would doubtless

produce the coarser vegetables. In other respects it is a wretched

place. A little time since, I rode across the island, and returned in

four days. My excursion would have been longer, but during the whole

time it blew a gale of wind, with hail and snow. There is no firewood

bigger than heath, and the whole country is, more or less an elastic

peat-bog. Sleeping out at night was too miserable work to endure it for

all the rocks in South America.

We shall leave this scene of iniquity in two or three days, and go to

the Rio de la Sta. Cruz. One of the objects is to look at the ship's

bottom. We struck heavily on an unknown rock off Port Desire, and some

of her copper is torn off. After this is repaired the Captain has a

glorious scheme; it is to go to the very head of this river, that is

probably to the Andes. It is quite unknown; the Indians tell us it is

two or three hundred yards broad, and horses can nowhere ford it. I

cannot imagine anything more interesting. Our plans then are to go

to Fort Famine, and there we meet the "Adventure", who is employed in

making the Chart of the Falklands. This will be in the middle of winter,

so I shall see Tierra del Fuego in her white drapery. We leave the

straits to enter the Pacific by the Barbara Channel, one very little

known, and which passes close to the foot of Mount Sarmiento (the

highest mountain in the south, excepting Mt.!! Darwin!!). We then shall

scud away for Concepcion in Chili. I believe the ship must once again

steer southward, but if any one catches me there again, I will give him

leave to hang me up as a scarecrow for all future naturalists. I long

to be at work in the Cordilleras, the geology of this side, which

I understand pretty well is so intimately connected with periods of

violence in that great chain of mountains. The future is, indeed, to

me a brilliant prospect. You say its very brilliancy frightens you; but

really I am very careful; I may mention as a proof, in all my rambles I

have never had any one accident or scrape...Continue in your good custom

of writing plenty of gossip; I much like hearing all about all things.

Remember me most kindly to Uncle Jos, and to all the Wedgwoods. Tell

Charlotte (their married names sound downright unnatural) I should like

to have written to her, to have told her how well everything is going

on; but it would only have been a transcript of this letter, and I

have a host of animals at this minute surrounding me which all require

embalming and numbering. I have not forgotten the comfort I received

that day at Maer, when my mind was like a swinging pendulum. Give my

best love to my father. I hope he will forgive all my extravagance, but

not as a Christian, for then I suppose he would send me no more money.

Good-bye, dear, to you, and all your goodly sisterhood.

Your affectionate brother, CHAS. DARWIN.

My love to Nancy (His old nurse.); tell her, if she was now to see me

with my great beard, she would think I was some worthy Solomon, come to

sell the trinkets.

CHARLES DARWIN TO C. WHITLEY. Valparaiso, July 23, 1834.

My dear Whitley,

I have long intended writing, just to put you in mind that there is a

certain hunter of beetles, and pounder of rocks still in existence. Why

I have not done so before I know not, but it will serve me right if you

have quite forgotten me. It is a very long time since I have heard any

Cambridge news; I neither know where you are living or what you are

doing. I saw your name down as one of the indefatigable guardians of the

eighteen hundred philosophers. I was delighted to see this, for when

we last left Cambridge you were at sad variance with poor science; you

seemed to think her a public prostitute working for popularity. If your

opinions are the same as formerly, you would agree most admirably with

Captain Fitz-Roy,--the object of his most devout abhorrence is one of

the d--d scientific Whigs. As captains of men-of-war are the greatest

men going, far greater than kings or schoolmasters, I am obliged to tell

him everything in my own favour. I have often said I once had a very

good friend, an out-and-out Tory, and we managed to get on very well

together. But he is very much inclined to doubt if ever I really was so

much honoured; at present we hear scarcely anything about politics; this

saves a great deal of trouble, for we all stick to our former opinions

rather more obstinately than before, and can give rather fewer reasons

for doing so.

I do hope you will write to me: ('H.M.S. "Beagle", S. American Station'

will find me). I should much like to hear in what state you are both in

body and mind. ?Quien Sabe? as the people say here (and God knows they

well may, for they do know little enough), if you are not a married man,

and may be nursing, as Miss Austen says, little olive branches, little

pledges of mutual affection. Eheu! Eheu! this puts me in mind of former

visions of glimpses into futurity, where I fancied I saw retirement,

green cottages, and white petticoats. What will become of me hereafter

I know not; I feel like a ruined man, who does not see or care how to

extricate himself. That this voyage must come to a conclusion my

reason tells me, but otherwise I see no end to it. It is impossible not

bitterly to regret the friends and other sources of pleasure one leaves

behind in England; in place of it there is much solid enjoyment, some

present, but more in anticipation, when the ideas gained during the

voyage can be compared to fresh ones. I find in Geology a never-failing

interest, as it has been remarked, it creates the same grand ideas

respecting this world which Astronomy does for the universe. We have

seen much fine scenery; that of the Tropics in its glory and luxuriance

exceeds even the language of Humboldt to describe. A Persian writer

could alone do justice to it, and if he succeeded he would in England be

called the 'Grandfather of all liars.'

But I have seen nothing which more completely astonished me than the

first sight of a savage. It was a naked Fuegian, his long hair blowing

about, his face besmeared with paint. There is in their countenances

an expression which I believe, to those who have not seen it, must

be inconceivably wild. Standing on a rock he uttered tones and made

gesticulations, than which the cries of domestic animals are far more

intelligible.

When I return to England, you must take me in hand with respect to the

fine arts. I yet recollect there was a man called Raffaelle Sanctus. How

delightful it will be once again to see, in the Fitzwilliam, Titian's

Venus. How much more than delightful to go to some good concert or fine

opera. These recollections will not do. I shall not be able to-morrow

to pick out the entrails of some small animal with half my usual

gusto. Pray tell me some news about Cameron, Watkins, Marindin, the two

Thompsons of Trinity, Lowe, Heaviside, Matthew. Herbert I have heard

from. How is Henslow getting on? and all other good friends of dear

Cambridge? Often and often do I think over those past hours, so many of

which have been passed in your company. Such can never return, but their

recollection can never die away.

God bless you, my dear Whitley, Believe me, your most sincere friend,

CHAS. DARWIN.

CHARLES DARWIN TO MISS C. DARWIN. Valparaiso, November 8, 1834.

My dear Catherine,

My last letter was rather a gloomy one, for I was not very well when I

wrote it. Now everything is as bright as sunshine. I am quite well again

after being a second time in bed for a fortnight. Captain Fitz-Roy very

generously has delayed the ship ten days on my account, and without at

the time telling me for what reason.

We have had some strange proceedings on board the "Beagle", but which

have ended most capitally for all hands. Captain Fitz-Roy has for

the last two months been working EXTREMELY hard, and at the same time

constantly annoyed by interruptions from officers of other ships; the

selling the schooner and its consequences were very vexatious; the

cold manner the Admiralty (solely I believe because he is a Tory) have

treated him, and a thousand other, etc. etc.'s, has made him very thin

and unwell. This was accompanied by a morbid depression of spirits, and

a loss of all decision and resolution... All that Bynoe [the Surgeon]

could say, that it was merely the effect of bodily health and exhaustion

after such application, would not do; he invalided, and Wickham was

appointed to the command. By the instructions Wickham could only finish

the survey of the southern part, and would then have been obliged to

return direct to England. The grief on board the "Beagle" about the

Captain's decision was universal and deeply felt; one great source

of his annoyment was the feeling it impossible to fulfil the whole

instructions; from his state of mind it never occurred to him that the

very instructions ordered him to do as much of the West coast AS HE HAS

TIME FOR, and then proceed across the Pacific.

Wickham (very disinterestedly giving up his own promotion) urged this

most strongly, stated that when he took the command nothing should

induce him to go to Tierra del Fuego again; and then asked the Captain

what would be gained by his resignation? why not do the more useful

part, and return as commanded by the Pacific. The Captain at last, to

every one's joy, consented, and the resignation was withdrawn.

Hurrah! hurrah! it is fixed the "Beagle" shall not go one mile south of

Cape Tres Montes (about 200 miles south of Chiloe), and from that point

to Valparaiso will be finished in about five months. We shall examine

the Chonos Archipelago, entirely unknown, and the curious inland sea

behind Chiloe. For me it is glorious. Cape Tres Montes is the most

southern point where there is much geological interest, as there the

modern beds end. The Captain then talks of crossing the Pacific; but

I think we shall persuade him to finish the Coast of Peru, where the

climate is delightful, the country hideously sterile, but abounding with

the highest interest to a geologist. For the first time since leaving

England I now see a clear and not so distant prospect of returning to

you all: crossing the Pacific, and from Sydney home, will not take much

time.

As soon as the Captain invalided I at once determined to leave the

"Beagle", but it was quite absurd what a revolution in five minutes was

effected in all my feelings. I have long been grieved and most sorry

at the interminable length of the voyage (although I never would have

quitted it); but the minute it was all over, I could not make up my mind

to return. I could not give up all the geological castles in the air

which I had been building up for the last two years. One whole night

I tried to think over the pleasure of seeing Shrewsbury again, but the

barren plains of Peru gained the day. I made the following scheme (I

know you will abuse me, and perhaps if I had put it in execution, my

father would have sent a mandamus after me); it was to examine the

Cordilleras of Chili during this summer, and in winter go from port

to port on the coast of Peru to Lima, returning this time next year

to Valparaiso, cross the Cordilleras to Buenos Ayres, and take ship

to England. Would not this have been a fine excursion, and in sixteen

months I should have been with you all? To have endured Tierra del Fuego

and not seen the Pacific would have been miserable...

I go on board to-morrow; I have been for the last six weeks in

Corfield's house. You cannot imagine what a kind friend I have

found him. He is universally liked, and respected by the natives and

foreigners. Several Chileno Signoritas are very obligingly anxious to

become the signoras of this house. Tell my father I have kept my promise

of being extravagant in Chili. I have drawn a bill of 100 pounds (had it

not better be notified to Messrs. Robarts & Co.); 50 pounds goes to the

Captain for the ensuing year, and 30 pounds I take to sea for the small

ports; so that bona fide I have not spent 180 pounds during these last

four months. I hope not to draw another bill for six months. All the

foregoing particulars were only settled yesterday. It has done me more

good than a pint of medicine, and I have not been so happy for the last

year. If it had not been for my illness, these four months in Chili

would have been very pleasant. I have had ill luck, however, in only one

little earthquake having happened. I was lying in bed when there was a

party at dinner in the house; on a sudden I heard such a hubbub in the

dining-room; without a word being spoken, it was devil take the hindmost

who should get out first; at the same moment I felt my bed SLIGHTLY

vibrate in a lateral direction. The party were old stagers, and heard

the noise which always precedes a shock; and no old stager looks at an

earthquake with philosophical eyes...

Good-bye to you all; you will not have another letter for some time.

My dear Catherine, Yours affectionately, CHAS. DARWIN.

My best love to my father, and all of you. Love to Nancy.

CHARLES DARWIN TO MISS S. DARWIN. Valparaiso, April 23, 1835.

My dear Susan,

I received, a few days since, your letter of November; the three letters

which I before mentioned are yet missing, but I do not doubt they will

come to life. I returned a week ago from my excursion across the Andes

to Mendoza. Since leaving England I have never made so successful a

journey; it has, however, been very expensive. I am sure my father would

not regret it, if he could know how deeply I have enjoyed it: it was

something more than enjoyment; I cannot express the delight which I

felt at such a famous winding-up of all my geology in South America. I

literally could hardly sleep at nights for thinking over my day's work.

The scenery was so new, and so majestic; everything at an elevation of

12,000 feet bears so different an aspect from that in a lower country. I

have seen many views more beautiful, but none with so strongly marked

a character. To a geologist, also, there are such manifest proofs of

excessive violence; the strata of the highest pinnacles are tossed about

like the crust of a broken pie.

I crossed by the Portillo Pass, which at this time of the year is apt to

be dangerous, so could not afford to delay there. After staying a day in

the stupid town of Mendoza, I began my return by Uspallate, which I did

very leisurely. My whole trip only took up twenty-two days. I travelled

with, for me, uncommon comfort, as I carried a BED! My party consisted

of two Peons and ten mules, two of which were with baggage, or rather

food, in case of being snowed up. Everything, however, favoured me;

not even a speck of this year's snow had fallen on the road. I do not

suppose any of you can be much interested in geological details, but

I will just mention my principal results:--Besides understanding to

a certain extent the description and manner of the force which has

elevated this great line of mountains, I can clearly demonstrate that

one part of the double line is of an age long posterior to the other.

In the more ancient line, which is the true chain of the Andes, I can

describe the sort and order of the rocks which compose it. These are

chiefly remarkable by containing a bed of gypsum nearly 2000 feet

thick--a quantity of this substance I should think unparalleled in

the world. What is of much greater consequence, I have procured fossil

shells (from an elevation of 12,000 feet). I think an examination of

these will give an approximate age to these mountains, as compared to

the strata of Europe. In the other line of the Cordilleras there is a

strong presumption (in my own mind, conviction) that the enormous mass

of mountains, the peaks of which rise to 13,000 and 14,000 feet, are so

very modern as to be contemporaneous with the plains of Patagonia (or

about with the UPPER strata of the Isle of Wight). If this result shall

be considered as proved (The importance of these results has been fully

recognised by geologists.), it is a very important fact in the theory

of the formation of the world; because, if such wonderful changes have

taken place so recently in the crust of the globe, there can be no

reason for supposing former epochs of excessive violence. These modern

strata are very remarkable by being threaded with metallic veins of

silver, gold, copper, etc.; hitherto these have been considered as

appertaining to older formations. In these same beds, and close to a

goldmine, I found a clump of petrified trees, standing up right, with

layers of fine sandstone deposited round them, bearing the impression of

their bark. These trees are covered by other sandstones and streams of

lava to the thickness of several thousand feet. These rocks have been

deposited beneath water; yet it is clear the spot where the trees grew

must once have been above the level of the sea, so that it is certain

the land must have been depressed by at least as many thousand feet as

the superincumbent subaqueous deposits are thick. But I am afraid you

will tell me I am prosy with my geological descriptions and theories...

Your account of Erasmus' visit to Cambridge has made me long to be back

there. I cannot fancy anything more delightful than his Sunday round of

King's, Trinity, and those talking giants, Whewell and Sedgwick; I hope

your musical tastes continue in due force. I shall be ravenous for the

pianoforte...

I have not quite determined whether I will sleep at the 'Lion' the first

night when I arrive per 'Wonder,' or disturb you all in the dead of

night; everything short of that is absolutely planned. Everything about

Shrewsbury is growing in my mind bigger and more beautiful; I am certain

the acacia and copper beech are two superb trees; I shall know every

bush, and I will trouble you young ladies, when each of you cut down

your tree, to spare a few. As for the view behind the house, I have seen

nothing like it. It is the same with North Wales; Snowdon, to my

mind, looks much higher and much more beautiful than any peak in the

Cordilleras. So you will say, with my benighted faculties, it is time to

return, and so it is, and I long to be with you. Whatever the trees are,

I know what I shall find all you. I am writing nonsense, so farewell. My

most affectionate love to all, and I pray forgiveness from my father.

Yours most affectionately, CHARLES DARWIN.

CHARLES DARWIN TO W.D. FOX. Lima, July, 1835.

My dear Fox,

I have lately received two of your letters, one dated June and the other

November, 1834 (they reached me, however, in an inverted order). I was

very glad to receive a history of this most important year in your life.

Previously I had only heard the plain fact that you were married. You

are a true Christian and return good for evil, to send two such letters

to so bad a correspondent as I have been. God bless you for writing

so kindly and affectionately; if it is a pleasure to have friends in

England, it is doubly so to think and know that one is not forgotten

because absent. This voyage is terribly long. I do so earnestly desire

to return, yet I dare hardly look forward to the future, for I do not

know what will become of me. Your situation is above envy: I do not

venture even to frame such happy visions. To a person fit to take the

office, the life of a clergyman is a type of all that is respectable and

happy. You tempt me by talking of your fireside, whereas it is a sort

of scene I never ought to think about. I saw the other day a vessel

sail for England; it was quite dangerous to know how easily I might

turn deserter. As for an English lady, I have almost forgotten what

she is--something very angelic and good. As for the women in these

countries, they wear caps and petticoats, and a very few have pretty

faces, and then all is said. But if we are not wrecked on some unlucky

reef, I will sit by that same fireside in Vale Cottage and tell some of

the wonderful stories, which you seem to anticipate and, I presume, are

not very ready to believe. Gracias a dios, the prospect of such times is

rather shorter than formerly.

From this most wretched 'City of the Kings' we sail in a fortnight, from

thence to Guayaquil, Galapagos, Marquesas, Society Islands, etc., etc. I

look forward to the Galapagos with more interest than any other part

of the voyage. They abound with active volcanoes, and, I should hope,

contain Tertiary strata. I am glad to hear you have some thoughts of

beginning Geology. I hope you will; there is so much larger a field for

thought than in the other branches of Natural History. I am become a

zealous disciple of Mr. Lyell's views, as known in his admirable book.

Geologising in South America, I am tempted to carry parts to a greater

extent even than he does. Geology is a capital science to begin, as it

requires nothing but a little reading, thinking, and hammering. I have

a considerable body of notes together; but it is a constant subject of

perplexity to me, whether they are of sufficient value for all the time

I have spent about them, or whether animals would not have been of more

certain value.

I shall indeed be glad once again to see you and tell you how grateful I

feel for your steady friendship. God bless you, my very dear Fox.

Believe me, Yours affectionately, CHAS. DARWIN.

CHARLES DARWIN TO J.S. HENSLOW. Sydney, January, 1836.

My dear Henslow,

This is the last opportunity of communicating with you before that

joyful day when I shall reach Cambridge. I have very little to say:

but I must write if it is only to express my joy that the last year is

concluded, and that the present one, in which the "Beagle" will return,

is gliding onwards. We have all been disappointed here in not finding

even a single letter; we are, indeed, rather before our expected time,

otherwise, I dare say, I should have seen your handwriting. I must

feed upon the future, and it is beyond bounds delightful to feel the

certainty that within eight months I shall be residing once again most

quietly in Cambridge. Certainly, I never was intended for a traveller;

my thoughts are always rambling over past or future scenes; I cannot

enjoy the present happiness for anticipating the future, which is about

as foolish as the dog who dropped the real bone for its shadow....

In our passage across the Pacific we only touched at Tahiti and New

Zealand; at neither of these places or at sea had I much opportunity

of working. Tahiti is a most charming spot. Everything which former

navigators have written is true. 'A new Cytheraea has risen from the

ocean.' Delicious scenery, climate, manners of the people are all in

harmony. It is, moreover, admirable to behold what the missionaries both

here and at New Zealand have effected. I firmly believe they are good

men working for the sake of a good cause. I much suspect that those who

have abused or sneered at the missionaries have generally been such as

were not very anxious to find the natives moral and intelligent beings.

During the remainder of our voyage we shall only visit places generally

acknowledged as civilised, and nearly all under the British flag. These

will be a poor field for Natural History, and without it I have lately

discovered that the pleasure of seeing new places is as nothing. I must

return to my old resource and think of the future, but that I may not

become more prosy, I will say farewell till the day arrives, when I

shall see my Master in Natural History, and can tell him how grateful I

feel for his kindness and friendship.

Believe me, dear Henslow, Ever yours, most faithfully, CHAS. DARWIN.

CHARLES DARWIN TO MISS S. DARWIN. Bahia, Brazil, August 4 [1836].

My dear Susan,

I will just write a few lines to explain the cause of this letter being

dated on the coast of South America. Some singular disagreements in the

longitudes made Captain Fitz-Roy anxious to complete the circle in the

southern hemisphere, and then retrace our steps by our first line to

England. This zigzag manner of proceeding is very grievous; it has put

the finishing stroke to my feelings. I loathe, I abhor the sea and all

ships which sail on it. But I yet believe we shall reach England in the

latter half of October. At Ascension I received Catherine's letter of

October, and yours of November; the letter at the Cape was of a later

date, but letters of all sorts are inestimable treasures, and I

thank you both for them. The desert, volcanic rocks, and wild sea of

Ascension, as soon as I knew there was news from home, suddenly wore a

pleasing aspect, and I set to work with a good-will at my old work of

Geology. You would be surprised to know how entirely the pleasure in

arriving at a new place depends on letters. We only stayed four days at

Ascension, and then made a very good passage to Bahia.

I little thought to have put my foot on South American coast again.

It has been almost painful to find how much good enthusiasm has been

evaporated during the last four years. I can now walk soberly through

a Brazilian forest; not but what it is exquisitely beautiful, but now,

instead of seeking for splendid contrasts, I compare the stately mango

trees with the horse-chestnuts of England. Although this zigzag has lost

us at least a fortnight, in some respects I am glad of it. I think I

shall be able to carry away one vivid picture of inter-tropical scenery.

We go from hence to the Cape de Verds; that is, if the winds or the

Equatorial calms will allow us. I have some faint hopes that a steady

foul wind might induce the Captain to proceed direct to the Azores. For

which most untoward event I heartily pray.

Both your letters were full of good news; especially the expressions

which you tell me Professor Sedgwick used about my collections. I

confess they are deeply gratifying--I trust one part at least will turn

out true, and that I shall act as I now think--as a man who dares to

waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life. Professor

Sedgwick mentioning my name at all gives me hopes that he will assist me

with his advice, of which, in my geological questions, I stand much in

need. It is useless to tell you from the shameful state of this scribble

that I am writing against time, having been out all morning, and now

there are some strangers on board to whom I must go down and talk

civility. Moreover, as this letter goes by a foreign ship, it is

doubtful whether it will ever arrive. Farewell, my very dear Susan and

all of you. Good-bye.

C. DARWIN.

CHARLES DARWIN TO J.S. HENSLOW. St. Helena, July 9, 1836.

My dear Henslow,

I am going to ask you to do me a favour. I am very anxious to belong to

the Geological Society. I do not know, but I suppose it is necessary to

be proposed some time before being ballotted for; if such is the case,

would you be good enough to take the proper preparatory steps? Professor

Sedgwick very kindly offered to propose me before leaving England, if he

should happen to be in London. I dare say he would yet do so.

I have very little to write about. We have neither seen, done, or heard

of anything particular for a long time past; and indeed if at present

the wonders of another planet could be displayed before us, I believe we

should unanimously exclaim, what a consummate plague. No schoolboys ever

sung the half sentimental and half jovial strain of 'dulce domum' with

more fervour, than we all feel inclined to do. But the whole subject

of 'dulce domum,' and the delight of seeing one's friends, is most

dangerous, it must infallibly make one very prosy or very boisterous.

Oh, the degree to which I long to be once again living quietly with not

one single novel object near me! No one can imagine it till he has been

whirled round the world during five long years in a ten-gun-brig. I am

at present living in a small house (amongst the clouds) in the centre of

the island, and within stone's throw of Napoleon's tomb. It is blowing

a gale of wind with heavy rain and wretchedly cold; if Napoleon's ghost

haunts his dreary place of confinement, this would be a most excellent

night for such wandering spirits. If the weather chooses to permit me,

I hope to see a little of the Geology (so often partially described) of

the island. I suspect that differently from most volcanic islands its

structure is rather complicated. It seems strange that this little

centre of a distinct creation should, as is asserted, bear marks of

recent elevation.

The "Beagle" proceeds from this place to Ascension, then to the Cape de

Verds (what miserable places!) to the Azores to Plymouth, and then

to home. That most glorious of all days in my life will not, however,

arrive till the middle of October. Some time in that month you will see

me at Cambridge, where I must directly come to report myself to you, as

my first Lord of the Admiralty. At the Cape of Good Hope we all on board

suffered a bitter disappointment in missing nine months' letters, which

are chasing us from one side of the globe to the other. I dare say

amongst them there was a letter from you; it is long since I have

seen your handwriting, but I shall soon see you yourself, which is

far better. As I am your pupil, you are bound to undertake the task of

criticising and scolding me for all the things ill done and not done at

all, which I fear I shall need much; but I hope for the best, and I am

sure I have a good if not too easy taskmaster.

At the Cape Captain Fitz-Roy and myself enjoyed a memorable piece of

good fortune in meeting Sir J. Herschel. We dined at his house and

saw him a few times besides. He was exceedingly good natured, but his

manners at first appeared to me rather awful. He is living in a very

comfortable country house, surrounded by fir and oak trees, which alone

in so open a country, give a most charming air of seclusion and comfort.

He appears to find time for everything; he showed us a pretty garden

full of Cape bulbs of his own collecting, and I afterwards understood

that everything was the work of his own hands...I am very stupid, and I

have nothing more to say; the wind is whistling so mournfully over the

bleak hills, that I shall go to bed and dream of England.

Goodnight, my dear Henslow, Yours most truly obliged and affectionately,

CHAS. DARWIN.

CHARLES DARWIN TO J.S. HENSLOW. Shrewsbury, Thursday, October 6, [1836].

My dear Henslow,

I am sure you will congratulate me on the delight of once again being

home. The "Beagle" arrived at Falmouth on Sunday evening, and I reached

Shrewsbury yesterday morning. I am exceedingly anxious to see you, and

as it will be necessary in four or five days to return to London to get

my goods and chattels out of the "Beagle", it appears to me my best plan

to pass through Cambridge. I want your advice on many points; indeed I

am in the clouds, and neither know what to do or where to go. My chief

puzzle is about the geological specimens--who will have the charity

to help me in describing their mineralogical nature? Will you be kind

enough to write to me one line by RETURN OF POST, saying whether you

are now at Cambridge? I am doubtful till I hear from Captain Fitz-Roy

whether I shall not be obliged to start before the answer can arrive,

but pray try the chance. My dear Henslow, I do long to see you; you have

been the kindest friend to me that ever man possessed. I can write no

more, for I am giddy with joy and confusion.

Farewell for the present, Yours most truly obliged, CHARLES DARWIN.

CHARLES DARWIN TO R. FITZ-ROY. Shrewsbury, Thursday morning, October 6,

[1836].

My dear Fitz-Roy,

I arrived here yesterday morning at breakfast time, and, thank God,

found all my dear good sisters and father quite well. My father appears

more cheerful and very little older than when I left. My sisters assure

me I do not look the least different, and I am able to return the

compliment. Indeed, all England appears changed excepting the good old

town of Shrewsbury and its inhabitants, which, for all I can see to

the contrary, may go on as they now are to Doomsday. I wish with all

my heart I was writing to you amongst your friends instead of at that

horrid Plymouth. But the day will soon come, and you will be as happy as

I now am. I do assure you I am a very great man at home; the five years'

voyage has certainly raised me a hundred per cent. I fear such greatness

must experience a fall.

I am thoroughly ashamed of myself in what a dead-and-half-alive state I

spent the few last days on board; my only excuse is that certainly I was

not quite well. The first day in the mail tired me, but as I drew nearer

to Shrewsbury everything looked more beautiful and cheerful. In passing

Gloucestershire and Worcestershire I wished much for you to admire the

fields, woods, and orchards. The stupid people on the coach did not seem

to think the fields one bit greener than usual; but I am sure we should

have thoroughly agreed that the wide world does not contain so happy a

prospect as the rich cultivated land of England.

I hope you will not forget to send me a note telling me how you go on.

I do indeed hope all your vexations and trouble with respect to our

voyage, which we now know HAS an end, have come to a close. If you do

not receive much satisfaction for all the mental and bodily energy you

have expended in His Majesty's service, you will be most hardly treated.

I put my radical sisters into an uproar at some of the prudent (if

they were not honest Whigs, I would say shabby) proceedings of our

Government. By the way, I must tell you for the honour and glory of the

family that my father has a large engraving of King George IV. put up

in his sitting-room. But I am no renegade, and by the time we meet my

politics will be as firmly fixed and as wisely founded as ever they

were.

I thought when I began this letter I would convince you what a steady

and sober frame of mind I was in. But I find I am writing most precious

nonsense. Two or three of our labourers yesterday immediately set to

work and got most excessively drunk in honour of the arrival of Master

Charles. Who then shall gainsay if Master Charles himself chooses to

make himself a fool. Good-bye. God bless you! I hope you are as happy,

but much wiser, than your most sincere but unworthy philosopher,

CHAS. DARWIN.