A couple of weeks ago I got for a song in a used bookstore the Oxford World's Classics edition of Evolutionary Writings, including the autobiographies, of Charles Darwin, which I've been dipping into occasionally and enjoying more than 3 out of the last 4 basketball games I've watched. Even the Chronology printed before the text proper begins is interesting. I did not know, for example, that between On the Origin of Species (1859) and The Descent of Man (1871), Darwin published On the Various Contrivances by which British and Foreign Orchids are Fertilised by Insects (1862), On the Movements and Habits of Climbing Plants (1865), and The Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication (1868). Other of his works include The Structure and Distribution of Coral Reefs (1842), Insectivorous Plants (1875), and The Formation of Vegetable Mould, through the Action of Worms (1881).
Judging just by the titles, these are not the work product of the Darwin we might think we know from current controversies—that is, a determined general in one of the Culture War's opening skirmishes. To the degree that the works are of a piece, the fabric is scientific, not cultural (and still less polemical). The experience of reading Darwin could hardly be at a greater remove from what one probably expects. Here is the Enemy of Religion and All that is Holy coming toward the conclusion of The Descent of Man:
A brief summary will here be sufficient to recall to the reader's mind the more salient points in this work. Many of the views which have been advanced are highly speculative, and some no doubt will prove erroneous; but I have in every case given the reasons which have led me to one view rather than to another. It seemed worth while to try how far the principle of evolution would throw light on some of the more complex problems in the natural history of man. False facts are highly injurious to the progress of science, for they often long endure; but false views, if supported by some evidence, do little harm, as everyone takes a salutary pleasure in proving their falseness; and when this is done, one path towards error is closed and the road to truth is often at the same time opened.
The main conclusion arrived at in this work, and now held by many naturalists who are well competent to form a sound judgment, is that man is descended from some less highly organized form. . . .
This tone of colorless detachment is maintained so scrupulously as to sometimes elicit a smile, though I'm pretty sure the effect is unintentional:
Sexual selection has been treated at great length in these volumes; for, as I have attempted to show, it has played an important part in the history of the organic world. . . .
It cannot be supposed that male birds of paradise or peacocks, for instance, should take so much pains in erecting, spreading, and vibrating their beautiful plumes before the females for no purpose. We should remember the fact given on excellent authority in a former chapter, namely that several peahens, when debarred from an admired male, remained widows during a whole season rather than pair with another bird.
I like a lot about this passage but probably nothing more than the diction, which, whether it be attributed to the author's inclination or to his considered judgment, deploys "debarred from an admired male" to distinguish winners from losers in the sexual sweepstakes. Also, "pair."
Darwin's reputation for atheism is not wholly undeserved, though he isn’t the crusader one sometimes encounters in Culture War screeds. The only account of his religious views is in his autobiographical writings, and he suppressed their publication during his lifetime. Some crusader! Then, after he died, the sections discussing his religious views were suppressed by his kids, in order not to distress their mother. Finally, in a subsequent edition, the publication of which was overseen by a granddaughter, the sections discussing religion were restored.
I'm not sure that "atheist" is as apt a descriptor as, say, "skeptic." Though famous, or infamous, for having contradicted a literal understanding of the creation stories in the Book of Genesis, views concerning the Bible seem to have made only a small contribution to his store of religious skepticism. The biggest part was due to innocent suffering, and it's interesting, given his field of expertise, that with respect to humans he allows that suffering can enlarge sympathies and have an overall improving effect upon character (though he acknowledges too that sometimes it just grinds you into the grave). What he cannot abide, because there's no "vale of soul-making" defense, is the suffering of other "sentient beings"—in other words, animals. His exposition is calm, and the only agitation one detects arises when he expresses disgust with the idea of hell and damnation. His scientific works created a new literary genre, the "crisis of faith" narrative in which the once placidly devout were converted into great gnashers of teeth who wondered whether God and Nature must then be at strife, etc., etc., but Darwin, who as an undergraduate had considered ordained ministry as a career, says he lost his faith so gradually, by degrees, that he hardly noticed when it had almost wholly dissipated.
Darwin lovers enjoy collecting unusual facts and tidbits about him. For example, he shares a birthday, February 12, 1809, with Abraham Lincoln. His family tree includes several eminent scientists, but a grandson, Bernard, bucked the family tradition and studied law. He hated the practice of law, however, and gravitated toward journalism, eventually establishing himself as the most distinguished golf writer in the British Isles. From the Wikipedia article on him:
He played the game at an excellent level himself well into middle age, and competed in The Amateur Championship on 26 occasions across five decades between 1898 and 1935, with his best results being semi-final appearances in 1909 and 1921. In 1922, while in the United States to report on the first Walker Cup amateur team match between Britain and Ireland and the US, and also appointed as non-playing captain, Darwin was pressed into service at the last minute as a player, when one of the British team members, Robert Harris, was unable to play. He lost his team match, but won his singles match.
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