Nova (1974) s37e01 Episode Script

1 Tonight, a special two-hour dramatic presentation.
His was the fist mind of the age, The father of modern biology, Author of the most influential theory In the history of science.
Nature's selection-- natural selection.
Have you the proofs of this? Yes.
But in the summer of 1858, Charles Darwin faced his darkest hour.
Charles? What is it? Twenty years of work and I've I've been beaten to the post.
It's from a man called Wallace.
His theory and my own are identical.
He even employs phrases that I myself have used in my book-- "the struggle for existence," for example.
For 20 years, he has suppressed his greatest work, Wary of public reaction, of scientific scrutiny, Of religious differences with his wife, Emma.
I think I may have found the answer To the mystery of mysteries.
And if I'm right, Then the god that Lyell believes in so profoundly Is dead.
And what of the god that I believe in? Now, in the midst of personal tragedy It is scarlet fever.
I'm so desperately worried, What with Etty so sick and now the baby.
I think it may prove too much for Charles.
On the verge of professional triumph Millions of small changes, of the same kind, Over millions of years.
The danger in what you say Is that it undermines the truth of scripture.
It's an axe to the root of the faith By which men lead their lives And which sustains our whole society.
Darwin must make a critical decision, And the world's most controversial scientific theory Hangs in the balance.
I think you must publish.
You'd be sorry to see me an object of hatred.
We must think very carefully.
"Darwin's Darkest Hour"-- Right now on this National Geographic Special movie presentation.
Malthus Malthus The human popu The human population should have overwhelmed the Overwhelmed the planet by now.
That's what Malthus said.
Should have overwhelmed the planet by now, But nothing of the sort has happened.
Why not? Why not? Malthus External pressures Pressures.
Natural disasters.
Malthus That's what Malthus says.
What if the same laws apply to animal populations? External pressures, natural disasters.
Great heaven, what if that's true? It could be the answer.
The answer The answer to the greatest question any scientist-- Any thinking man-- could ask.
Any thinking man could ask How you doing today, Joe? Come along here.
Postman's here! Morning, Mr.
Parslow.
Thank you kindly.
Thank you, Parslow.
Ma'am.
Can I be postman? My turn! It's my turn! I think it's Frankie's turn.
Frank? Better hurry up, Frankie, it's half past nine.
Come on, boys, let's go play outside.
Thank you, Etty.
Come on, Horace, hurry up.
Postman! Come in.
Thank you, Frankie.
Post's early today.
What is it, papa? Oh, it's a model of a beehive cell.
Can we do bees today? Hmm, yes, I should think so.
Morning, Jane.
Morning, Parslow.
Morning, master Charlie! How's my lovely boy? Parslow.
Take him, please.
Charles? What is it? I've been beaten to the post.
Twenty years of work and I've I've been beaten to the post.
He wants me to forward it to Lyell.
What can I do? I can't suppress it, I must do as he asks.
I'm honor-bound to do so.
Charles, step by step.
Method in all things, yes? Yes.
It's from a man called Wallace.
Alfred Russel Wallace.
He's in the east, the Moluccas, I think.
He encloses an essay "on the tendency of varieties" "To depart indefinitely from the original type.
" Yes, I see.
What does it mean? What does it mean? It means I'm trumped! Gammoned! His theory and my own are identical.
He even employs phrases that I myself have used in my book-- "the struggle for existence," for example.
I don't know what's to be done, Emma.
I don't know which way to turn.
What's to be done is for you to sit down quietly And tell me exactly who this man is.
I don't know what you'd call him.
A traveler? Explorer? Naturalist? He was in the amazon basin and he wrote a book about it.
It was quite readable, If rather light from a scientific point of view.
You've met him? Mmm, once.
There are two books that have together alter in South America.
The other is your own voyage of HMS Beagle.
Humboldt? Now, the first time I tried to read him, I couldn't get through it.
But the second time, when I was at Cambridge, I devoured it.
Nothing like it to stimulate a young man's appetite for travel.
Well, you ventured into wilder places than I ever did.
I never visited Amazonia.
Is that not sir Charles Lyell? Yes, yes, it is.
There's another book that has changed My whole way of thinking.
His principles of geology Wonderful.
Yes, indeed.
Might I beg an introduction? Certainly.
Forgive my slight tardiness, My dear Charles.
Oh, think nothing of it.
Might I introduce Mr.
Alfred Russel Wallace? Ah, the amazonian adventurer.
Mr.
Wallace.
A very great honor to meet you, sir Charles.
Yes, we really should be getting along.
I won't detain you any longer.
A great honor to meet you, sir.
And you, sir.
Bit of a rough diamond.
How so? I believe his father was some sort of west country attorney.
Couldn't afford to give his son a decent education.
Well, he seems to have acquired one by his own efforts.
Hmm.
Wallace went abroad again soon after, to the east.
We corresponded.
About your theory? No Well, not at first.
I wanted specimens of poultry That had been bred over many generations in remote regions.
He sent me those ducks from Bali, do you remember? So many people sent you so many things.
Yes, well, Wallace was one of them.
He makes his living that way, Collecting and selling specimens.
Then I read an article he'd written.
I made some notes on it; I must have them here somewhere.
It was entitled "the law which has regulated the introduction of new species.
" I wasn't greatly impressed; There was nothing very new in it, but Where on earth are those notes? Charles, don't bother about it now.
I wrote to Wallace kindly about it.
I said we were thinking along the same lines.
Lyell warned me.
You behold in me a member Of the borough club of pigeon fanciers.
I thought it was the philoperisteron.
Oh, I attend the philo, of course, But your true featherman prefers the borough.
We meet in all sorts of queer little grog shops And beer halls.
How very disagreeable.
Oh, I rather enjoy it.
Now, consider the number of varieties the feathermen Have produced from the pigeon's wild forbears.
How do they do it? By minute variations.
Yet the changes brought about by these methods are vast.
I have 15 varieties here And I can count the equivalents Of three good genera and 15 good species.
That's astonishing.
But this is leading somewhere else.
What if nature acts in the same way? What if nature is capable of forcing And then preserving those variations, Which by slow accumulation provide immense change? By what mechanism? By geographical isolation, climatic change.
These variations may or may not be beneficial.
Just in the same way as the domestic breeder removes Those variations that fail, so does nature.
Nature's selection-- natural selection.
Have you the proofs of this? Yes.
I see you don't much like the idea.
You must give me time to reflect.
You mentioned geographical isolation.
That man Wallace writes of the same thing.
Well, we have much in common in our way of thinking.
No, no, no, you should be careful.
I don't see Wallace as any great threat, But there may be others, men of real standing, Working along the same lines.
You should publish something.
Ah, I'm not ready.
Some small fragment of your data then-- The pigeons, for instance.
Come out with your theory, give it a date, Let it be cited and understood.
It would be tragic if, after all these years of work, You were preempted.
Why didn't you publish? An extract? An essay? I was determined to finish the book.
The big book? Yes.
I decided that the question of priority Was less important.
Was that the only reason? There was a look in Lyell's eye when I told him about my theory.
It was fear.
Sir Charles Lyell, the foremost geologist of his generation-- The man who proved the earth to be millions of years old Rather than a few thousand as so many churchmen claim-- This indomitable man of science was afraid.
And with good reason.
Emma, I think I may have found the answer To the mystery of mysteries.
And if I'm right, Then the god that Lyell believes in so profoundly is dead.
And what of the god that I believe in? Does that hurt there? No.
Perhaps we'll get Dr.
Engleheart to call tomorrow, See what he thinks.
Why don't you rest upstairs? Yes, mama.
What's the matter with Etty? Her throat's very sore.
Should we send for the doctor? Tomorrow, perhaps, if she's not feeling better.
Don't worry, Charles.
How can I be restrained From worrying about the health of my children? With the exception of William, they all seem to have inherited My wretched health.
Nonsense.
Well, frank and George are both prone To palpitations of the heart.
They have been-- they've grown out of it.
Lenny and Horace are delicate.
They don't look so very delicate to me.
One cannot escape the fact that you and I are first cousins.
It's not a fact from which I think there's any reason To escape.
Really, Charles, you mustn't let your scientific notions Run riot.
Our children aren't pigeons.
True.
But one cannot forget Our dearest Annie.
Quick, papa! Quick! No, of course, never forget.
Look what we found, papa.
Ah.
Ooh.
What have we here? Geotrupes stercorarius.
Oh, here we are.
Oh, what a handsome fellow.
Off you go.
You can eat him, Joe.
When I was at Cambridge I had a mania For collecting beetles.
I remember one day I came across two of the rarest, And I picked one up in my left hand and the other in my right And that's when I saw the rarest of them all-- Panagaeus cruxmajor.
What to do? I didn't want to lose the ones I had in my hand, But to miss out on panagaeus, that was out of the question.
So I put the one in my right hand in my mouth.
And do you know what the inconsiderate little beast did? It squirted a sort of acid down my throat.
Really, Charles! It must have been a bombardier.
Anyway, I spat it out, dropped the others and lost all three.
Ah, there's a lesson in that.
Are we going to do bees today, papa? Not today, Frankie.
Tomorrow, perhaps.
Catch me! Delicate? Have you decided what to do about Wallace? Well, I'll do as he requests.
I'll forward his paper to Lyell.
"My dear Lyell, your words have come true with a vengeance, "that I should be forestalled.
"I never saw a more striking coincidence.
"if Wallace had my sketch written out in 1842 "he could not have made a better abstract.
"so all my originality, whatever it may amount to, Will be smashed.
" You'd better look over this before I send it.
"please return the manuscript, "which he does not say he wishes me to publish; "but I shall, of course, at once write off and offer to send it To any journal.
" Do you really think that's necessary? I must act honorably.
But as you yourself point out, Wallace hasn't actually asked for your help in publishing.
It's surely implied.
Is it? In any case, if I make no effort on his behalf, I could be accused-- justly accused-- Of seeking to suppress a rival's work.
Never let that be said of me.
It's just so unfair.
You've been working on this theory for how many years? Ever since your voyage in the Beagle.
Such ideas were in my head even before then.
When I was a medical student in Edinburgh.
One of my teachers was Dr.
Robert grant, A man of highly advanced-- indeed, revolutionary-- ideas.
His passion was primitive marine life, Especially sponges.
"would it be too bold to imagine "that in the great length of time "since the earth began to exist, all warm-blooded animals Have arisen from one living filament?" Do you recognize the quotation? Mmm.
It's from zoonomia.
Exactly, from zoonomia, by the great Dr.
Erasmus Darwin.
"nurs'd by warm sunbeams in primal caves, "organic life began beneath the waves, "hence without parent, by spontaneous birth, Rise the first specks of animated earth.
" Hmm.
You may be able to quote him, But from what I've been able to judge of your own ideas, You haven' learned from him.
You know Lamarck's work A very great thinker.
I met him when I was in Paris.
He utterly demolishes the notion That species have been separately and divinely created.
He declares, and I declare with him, That the origins and progression of species Are due to physical and chemical forces Obeying natural laws.
Why do you look so startled? These cannot be new ideas to Erasmus Darwin's grandson.
Poor Lamarck.
He has all the forces of political And scientific reaction arraigned against him, Their spears tipped with venom, Their shields armored with ignorance, Astride their intellectually spavined hobbyhorses.
Oh! He was fascinated by the microscopic world.
He made some wonderful drawings.
He gave me this.
It's a species of sea-mat called flustra.
It's primitive, moss-like, Comprising a colony of tentacle-waving polyps.
"you'll hardly believe me when I tell you "that certain gentlemen masquerading as naturalists Still consider flustra to be a plant!" Is that how he talked? More or less.
"this in spite of the fact "that I have shown beyond the faintest shadow of a doubt "that it's an animal, "and an animal, moreover, I am convinced hol clues To the common foundation of all life.
" He said I should direct my studies Towards the microscopic world.
"look for the answers to the greatest questions In the smallest things.
" I took to beachcombing myself.
I observed waving, hair-like cilia On the larvae of a species of flustra previously unknown.
Grant wrote an article about it But he failed to mention my contribution.
Ah.
Yes.
It was an early lesson I seem to have forgotten.
I suppose his religious views were as radical As his scientific ones.
Perhaps you didn't discuss them.
Charles, don't do anything.
Precipitate about this Wallace business.
Think carefully.
A game? Or shall I play for you? Play for me.
I need soothing.
It's not scarlet fever.
Why, did you think it might be? Ah, you haven't heard.
There's scarlet fever in the village.
What? We've heard nothing.
I'm almost certain it's a form of quinsy, an acute form.
It's recently been given a name, diphtheria.
I hate the thought of your life's work Being preempted by some latecomer.
You must defend yourself.
Priority is everything.
We should establish a chronology, A step-by-step account of the exact stages By which you've arrived at your theory.
My theory.
My abominable theory! It's all your fault.
My fault? Well, your family's.
Your father's in particular.
You know perfectly well that if it hadn't been for him, I'd never have set foot on the deck of the good ship Beagle.
My own father was dead set against I well, Charles, we'd better have it out.
I've considered the matter carefully And I cannot give my consent To this wild scheme of yours.
You're going into the church.
This voyage, or expedition, or whatever it is, Would do irreparable damage to your reputation as a clergyman.
Some of our best and most respected naturalists Are men of the cloth, father.
Yes, and they confine their beetle hunting And butterfly-pinning within the sphere of their parishes.
They don't go gadding off halfway across the world on a boat.
Besides which, your primary task now at Cambridge Is to prepare for the bishop's ordination examination.
Natural history is, or it is supposed to be, For your leisure hours.
It's more than that.
Much, much more than that.
Would you say you have a great reputation as a naturalist? Well, no.
The Reverend Professor Henslow has recommended me.
And Mr.
Peacock.
Peacock? I'm not familiar with the name.
He's a fellow of trinity, And a friend of Captain Fitzroy, who's to command the Beagle.
My strongest objection is that if you did go That you would never settle to a profession afterwards.
I don't see how you can say that.
I can say that because I can cite history.
You were to be a doctor, I sent you to Edinburgh.
It came to nothing.
I couldn't stand those operating theaters.
The dirt, the screams of the wretched patients, the blood.
it was revolting.
Next was to be the church.
I sent you to Cambridge.
And now that, in turn, is to be abandoned For some harum-scarum nautical adventure.
No, no, no.
There must be an end to all this chopping and changing.
You will be a clergyman.
With your permission, I need to change my clothes.
I'm riding over to Maer this afternoon.
Charles If you can find any man of common sense Who advises you to go, I would reconsider.
Thank you, father.
Don't stop, please.
Charles! Here you are.
Uncle Jos.
From my father.
How well you're looking, Charles.
Isn't he, Emma? Welcome back to Maer, Charles.
Thank you.
That was beautiful.
Nobody plays Chopin better.
He always said I massacred his music.
Nonsense! Your father prescribes turpentine pills For my ailment, Charles.
What else does he say? Oh, a great deal on the subject He refers to as your voyage of discovery.
He calls it folly.
It isn't folly, Uncle Jos.
It's a heaven-sent opportunity.
To see South America, Australia, the pacific isles, the world.
It's what I've dreamed of.
Then you must go, Charles.
Of course he must.
The admiralty won't pay for my expenses.
Without my father's support Your father does add that if I thought differently He would wish you to follow my advice.
Then advise him to go, papa.
Yes, papa! That's all very well, But I know my brother-in-law.
The arguments will have to be dashed good ones.
It's what I was born to do.
I feel it, I I know it.
I don't understand him.
I remember once when I was a boy He flew into a rage.
He said all I cared about was shooting, dogs, And rat catching, Said I was a disgrace to myself and my family.
Now that I've found something I'm passionate about, He opposes it.
It's always what he wants me to do, never what I want to do.
A sea voyage is always a dangerous undertaking, Charles.
Very dangerous.
Perhaps he's afraid of losing you.
You're a most beloved son to him.
He's not a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, But the heart is there.
Well, I must do something.
We're doing it-- Presenting a rational counterargument To each of his objections.
So, as to its being "a wild scheme," I think we might point out that on the contrary, You could have definite objects on which to employ yourself And might acquire the habits of application.
I can apply myself.
I do apply myself, when the subject interests me.
At the present my studies bore me to death, And always will, Whereas natural history absolutely fascinates me.
And, one might add, That your pursuit of knowledge in natural history Is in the same track as you would have to follow In the expedition.
Would that do? Yes.
It's the truth.
So, you went.
Ah, that voyage.
Nearly five years.
To the uttermost ends of the earth and back.
We used to long for your letters.
I tried to convey something of the wonder of it all.
It was like Being admitted into nature's library? Did I write that? You did.
I must have been referring to the Brazilian rainforest.
The glossy green of the foliage, The sheer luxuriance of the vegetation.
I had Lyell's principles of geology with me.
It was just out.
What a book! I lived and ate and dreamed it.
At Punta Alta, in Argentina, I made my first discovery.
Over days and weeks, we exposed the remains Of what turned out to be a megatherium, A huge ground-living relative of the sloth.
By now, I was thinking, questioning.
How had the remains arrived there? How were the gravels in which they were embedded formed? What forces had been at work? It was only when I returned to England That I saw there was a greater mystery.
These remains were giant versions Of familiar, living creatures, So similar that there must be some link between them.
But what? There were puzzles everywhere, Some set by spectacular finds like the megatherium, Others by the smallest, Apparently almost humdrum objects.
It's a fossilized horse's tooth.
I found it when I was with the gauchos in Argentina.
Where's the puzzle? Well, it's known that the horse was introduced Into south America by the Spanish conquistadors In the 15th century.
Yet there, in my hand, out on the pampas, Was proof that at some time in the distant past Horses had roamed there.
What had happened to them? How had they been made extinct? You know how throughout the voyage I never found my sea legs and suffered agonies Of seasickness.
How ever did you put up with it? I was younger then.
Ah.
The point is that when I was in the Andes, I was astonished, and not a little dismayed, To find myself subject to the same symptoms.
What I found up there-- fossilized seashells.
Seashells so excited my thoughts As to prove a miraculous cure to my ailment.
They were a little less pleasing to my friend, Captain Fitzroy, master of the Beagle.
Ask yourself, How is it possible to find the remains of seashells At the top of a mountain range Unless at some time in the distant past, Those same mountaintops were at sea level? I was brought up to believe that some few thousand years ago, At the time of Noah's flood, The sea rose violently up and drowned The South American continent.
When it receded, traces were left behind.
You really think that explains it? How do you explain it? It came about over vast stretches of time By processes with which you and I are only too familiar.
Concepción When we sailed into the harbor, or, rather, what was left of it.
Earthquake.
Exactly.
I found mussel beds lying above the high tide mark.
The land had risen by several feet.
Imagine millions of small changes of the same kind Over millions of years.
So the biblical account in genesis is wrong? What I was taught to believe is wrong? Be careful, philosopher.
But it was you yourself who gave me Lyell's book.
I thought you accepted his ideas.
What I accept or don't accept, what I believe or don't believe, Isn't the point at issue.
The danger in what you say is that it undermines The truth of scripture.
It's an axe to the root of the faith By which men lead their lives And which sustains our whole society.
William, we've gone, what, three years without quarreling? Let's not spoil the record now.
I'm not a literalist.
I don't believe that a 40 days' flood Could have raised this to the height of the Andes.
I'm just issuing a warning, a friendly warning.
When you attack the bible, You cause great pain and arouse great anger.
Well, I have business to attend to ashore.
He misunderstood me.
I wasn't attacking the bible.
I was only raising the question Of whether scripture needs to be taken as science Or whether it can be regarded as dealing with Other realms entirely.
It was a perfectly reasonable question.
People don't see it that way.
When they hear the bible attacked, They do feel great pain and they are greatly angered.
Hmm.
Let's continue the voyage.
Looking back, I'm t so much amazed at the beauty and variety Of what I saw, As at my failure to grasp the deeper significance Of so much of it.
For example? Well, the English resident in Charles island, In the Galapagos, told me that the giant tortoises Could be found on all the islands in the group And that it was possible to tell by the different markings On an individual's carapace From which particular island it originated.
I noted this, of course, but Its true meaning escaped me at the time.
You loved the Galapagos islands, didn't you? Oh, they were astonishing A cornucopia of nature's richest treasures.
With what frantic endeavor did I collect specimens, With what incessant speed did my pen fly across the pages Of my notebooks.
Of course I sensed that here were pieces of the puzzle, Answers to the questions swirling in my mind, But how dimly it seems to me now, how feebly.
I made a considerable collection of birds.
From the varieties of the shapes and sizes of their beaks I took them to be an assortment of wrens, Grosbeaks, orioles and finches.
But in my hurry I failed to record From which particular island each one had been taken.
I started this in July of '37, Ten months after my return to England.
I gave it the title zoonomia, After my grandfather.
I put in it all my thoughts About varieties of nature and how they had arisen.
Ah, here's a turning point-- The birds of the Galapagos.
You've heard me talk of Gould-- John Gould-- Superintendent of stuffed birds at the zoological society? Ah, yes.
Oh, what I owe that man.
You'll recall that at the January meeting of the society, I reported that part of your Galapagos collection, Which you'd thought to be a mixture of different birds, Is, in fact, a series of finches; A new group, containing no less than 12 species.
Well, I've found a 13th.
What you thought to be a wren is another finch.
But I've made another discovery, A most singular discovery.
The mockingbirds.
You labeled each specimen with its island of origin.
You took it-- I took it myself at first-- That they were varieties.
They're not.
They are separate species.
Separate? Yes! There's no doubt of it, and each one inhabiting A different island.
It threw me into a mental turmoil.
Separate species Inhabiting different islands only a few miles apart.
How could one explain this? Had they migrated from the mainland As Gould seemed to suggest? Or was there some other mechanism at work? Isolated on those islands, had they begun to change? Was this evidence of transmutation, Gradual change, at work? If so, the stability of species was completely undermined.
But there was still so much that I didn't know, So much I had to learn.
I began consulting experts in every field.
I even consulted my father.
Have you ever wondered how instinct is passed From generation to generation? Is it some form of inherited memory? I had a case once, an elderly man whose memory Had entirely gone Except that he could remember songs from his childhood.
He could sing them perfectly, and he did so, But in a way that was-- how can I put it-- Less than conscious.
It was more akin to what you were referring to, to instinct.
What are you up to? Up to? The gardener tells me that you have been asking him A lot of questions about plant cuttings and cross-pollination.
Come on, out with it.
I was looking into the idea Of gradual change in species.
Transmutation? I thought as much.
Following in your grandfather's footsteps.
Be careful, Charles, be very careful.
These notions are highly dangerous.
They're seen not just as an attack on religion But on the whole moral and social order.
In my father's case, happily for his reputation and mine, They remained in the sphere of philosophical speculation.
The world could just shrug them off as merely eccentric.
But if anybody can find proof-- scientific proof-- Well, that person better watch out for squalls.
Here's my next notebook.
"notebook c" I called it.
You see all my groping towards answers to the questions That assailed me.
I saw that changes to species must be slow, Taking pace over large stretches of time, Like Lyell's geological changes.
This idea grew on me in every sphere I was investigating.
For example, geographical isolation.
Remember the giant tortoises of the Galapagos? The fact that extinct and living species Of the same general type are found in the same areas.
I saw that only some law of evolution Could solve that puzzle.
You see what I write here? "the whole fabric totters and falls.
" The whole fabric? The whole traditional view of a created, fixed order, And of man at the pinnacle of that creation.
I saw that the laws of transmutation, Whatever they were, must apply to the whole of nature, Including man.
"but man, wonderful man, is an exception.
" It was no good.
I couldn't escape the truth.
Man is clearly a mammal, Sharing many of the same instincts and feelings As animals.
"man is no exception.
" I don't know what to say, Charles.
It's troubling.
It's deeply troubling.
Mama's been reading us one of her stories.
Which one? Pound of sugar.
Where did you get to? Um, Bobby and Lizzy have got home to their grandfather, But they've bought salt instead of sugar.
Ah, here we are.
"when the tea was ready, the old man poured the salt "into the sugar basin "and was much surprised to see that it was white.
"'well, everything is changed nowadays.
"I suppose all the brown sugar is made white.
' "as soon as bobby had tasted his tea, he said, "'my tea tastes very odd, grandfather.
' "'pooh! Nonsense, child.
"don't be dainty.
' "Lizzy then drank some of hers.
"the old man then tasted his tea and said, "'why, there is salt in the tea,' "then looked at the sugar basin.
"'why, bobby, you have brought a pound of salt instead of sugar.
No wonder it was so cheap.
'" Bees tomorrow, papa? We'll see, Frankie.
We'll see.
I've been thinking about your notebook c.
"c" for controversy.
"c" for calumny.
"c" for criminal.
"c" for complaints, perhaps.
Wasn't it about the time you finished it That you began to be ill? Was it? You know perfectly well it was.
The bodily pain I suffered Was perfectly real, I can assure you.
Hmm.
I remember, at Maer, Whenever I had to play at a big house party, Or papa invited the neighbors round, I would become quite ill.
I suppose it was a sort of a stage fright.
But the symptoms were perfectly real, I can assure you.
You're being fanciful.
In any case, at that point, Though I'd become convinced About the truth of transmutation, I hadn't decided what yet had caused it to happen.
But then you did.
Notebook d.
For the devil? It was a devilish time, I can assure you.
The autumn of '38.
We announced our engagement in November '38, Charles.
Oh, I don't mean that.
It was my work.
I was collaborating with Fitzroy On the annals of the Beagle voyage, I was trying to finish a geological paper, My health was wretched, And I was struggling with transmutation When I turned To this.
Malthus.
Malthus calculated that the human population could double In a mere 25 years.
But it didn't.
Why? First, the combination of famine, war and disease.
Second, what he terms "moral restraint"-- In other words, placing the birth of children Within the confines of marriage.
But, of course, among plants and animals, There are no such moral restraints, Yet the pressures of population growth On limited resources remains the same.
There can be only one result-- carnage.
To quote my grandfather, Erasmus, "the world is one great slaughterhouse.
" I suddenly saw nature as she is-- Predation, competition, excess reproduction, death; A war of all against all; of species, including man, Emma, Predating endlessly upon each other And within their own groups.
There's a force like a hundred thousand wedges Trying to impel every kind of adapted structure Into the gaps in the economy of nature, Or rather forming gaps by thrusting out weaker ones.
The final result of this must be To sort out proper structure and adapt it to change.
Years later I gave a name to this process.
I called it natural selection.
Yes, I think you told me something of it at the time.
Well, I wanted you to know the trend of my thinking Before we married.
Charles, nature may be terrible, but she's also beautiful.
When I see a flower, I don't see ugliness, I see beauty.
Pure, overwhelming beauty.
Charles You told me something of your theory before we were married, But did you tell no one else? It was only that, a theory.
I kept it to myself Until I saw Hooker in Kew Gardens.
When was that? It's important.
It must have been '44.
Joseph, I've been engaged in a very presumptuous work.
I'm almost convinced that species are not immutable.
Charles, that is not the opinion you started with.
No, quite contrary to where I began.
I think I've found the simple way By which species can become exquisitely adapted To various ends.
It's like confessing a murder.
Like confessing a murder? And that was in '44.
That's the same year yes, Jane, what is it? Begging your pardon, ma'am, but it's Charlie.
I can't get him to sleep, And I think he's feverish.
Oh, sweetie.
Oh, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.
Ooh.
Poor thing's got a fever.
Poor little chap.
Shh Oh Perhaps we might send for the doctor in the morning.
We could send now.
Have pity on the poor man.
I'll sit with him.
You go to bed, Charles.
All right.
Good night.
Good night, Jane.
Good night, sir.
You'd better go too, Jane.
Good night, ma'am.
Good night.
Charles.
I couldn't sleep.
Will you read to me? What's that you've got there? You should recognize it.
You gave it to me yourself.
It's dated the 5th of July, 1844.
The same year you wrote to hooker.
"my dear Emma, I have just finished my sketch "of my species theory.
"I believe "that my theory is true "and that if it be accepted by even one competent judge, "it will be a considerable step in science.
"I therefore write this, in case of my sudden death, "as my most solemn and last request, "you will devote £400 To its publication.
" This trumps Wallace! Yes, it may do.
If you knew it was true, why didn't you publish? Because of Something else that was published that year.
It was an anonymous work.
It was entitled "vestiges of the natural history of creation.
" I remember there was a quite a fuss and to-do, But I can't remember why.
Because it created such a storm.
The church was in a fury.
It was denounced at various public places.
The author did well to remain anonymous.
If he hadn't, it would have meant his utter ruin.
Oh, I see.
If I was to be subject To similar attacks, Which seemed inescapable, My science had to be unassailable.
That's why I shifted my direction to other areas.
Oh, those wretched barnacles.
Those wretched barnacles.
Mr.
Arthrobalanus.
Where was it again that you found that creature? During the Beagle voyage, On Chiloé, an island off the coast of Chile.
There I came across that enigmatic genus Of the family of balanidae.
It was not until the '40s that I took a good look at him.
That very first specimen, no bigger than a pinhead, Posed an immediate puzzle.
I realized that it represented an unknown genus.
I named it arthrobalanus.
This started me off on a trail of investigation that showed Species of barnacles progressing in stages From hermaphroditism to distinct males and females-- A trail that led back To gradual change, to transmutation.
Or evolution.
It's your first time, skimp, isn't it? Well, we are going to play a little trick On our friends today.
Here's a place, papa.
Good.
Can I? Go on.
Well, I've noticed that bees Often interrupt their journeys And stop and buzz at certain places, And they always seem to stop at the same place.
Now, is this just coincidence-- pure chance-- Or is there something else going on? One way to find out Is to put flour all over a plant And see if it deters them.
Do you understand, skimp? Doesn't matter.
All you have to do is when you see a bee, You shout, "here's a bee!" And if you see it stop and buzz, you shove a stake in.
All right, these "x"s mark the spot.
Lead on, Lenny.
I'm going over here.
I'll look over there.
Oh, I think I see one.
Here's a bee! Horace, Horace come back! Horace! Don't be silly.
Come back.
It's only a bee.
Here's a bee! Well done, Lenny.
Horace! I see one.
Right-o.
Another bee.
Good.
Only one more place left, papa.
Oh, there's a bee! Ah, yes.
Look, papa! Yes, but will it go to the plant? It didn't land on the plant.
Look out, Joe! Well, the flour had no effect.
Didn't deter them at all.
You see, the bees followed The same pattern exactly, despite our little trick.
There's obviously some sort of memory or instinct at work here.
Information is passed on From one generation of bee to the next.
Hmm.
Well, I think that's a good day's work.
Thank you, boys.
Come, Joe.
Come on, Joe.
Sounding and looking much better, my dear.
Well, Etty's much better, I'm happy to say.
Good.
Well on the road to recovery.
The baby, it is scarlet fever.
But of the milder sort, not half so severe As some of the cases I've been dealing with in the village.
The little fellow has a strong constitution.
I can't believe he's in any real danger.
With careful nursing, I'm confident he'll pull through, bless him.
Will you call again tomorrow, doctor? Of course! And if you detect any change, Don't hesitate to send for me at any hour.
Thank you.
Charles Don't tell me not to worry.
The doctor's perfectly right.
Charlie's strong.
So, the essay that you gave me in '44 Proves that you had your theory long before this man Wallace.
Now, did anybody else see it? Yes.
I sent a copy to hooker.
Well, there you are.
He can corroborate it.
There's Gray, too.
I I sent him a letter less than a year ago Giving him a summary.
What does any of this matter? All that matters is that Etty should get well again And we shouldn't lose Charlie like we lost Besides that, the question of priority between me and Wallace Is completely trivial.
Is Gray that man at that British Museum Who used to send you all those barnacles? No, no, that's That's John Gray, keeper of barnacles.
I meant Asa Gray, the Harvard botanist.
There was some trouble, wasn't there? I wouldn't call it trouble.
No? You went up to London expressly to see him.
You were quite in a flither.
Mr.
Gray! I'm glad I caught you.
Could you spare me a moment? My dear Mr.
Darwin, It's always a pleasure to see you, Not least because it's such a rare one.
Yes, quite.
Um, the fact is, a rumor has come to my attention.
It may be only that, of course, a rumor, That at a recent meeting of the zoological society A great forum of gossip.
Quite.
At the meeting, I'm told, You announced an intention To publish a monograph of barnacles.
I see.
Nobody could be better qualified, of course, But it inevitably anticipates my own project.
As you know better than anyone else, I have been laboring on it for more than two years.
Fallaces sunt rerum species.
There's clearly been a misunderstanding.
I thought that might be the case.
What I said at the meeting Of publishing my own arrangement Of the genera and species According to my manuscript catalogue.
A synonima, no more than a synonima.
Ah.
My intention was to facilitate rather than anticipate Your own work.
I see.
Of course, if you have any objections, I will withdraw the papers.
They've not yet been sent to the press.
No, no, no.
Well, I hope you didn't mind My mentioning the matter.
Certainly not.
Humanum est errare.
Quite so, quite so.
But you wrote to him, didn't you? I thought it best to have it in writing.
In case he went back on his word and stole your thunder? So priority does matter too.
That wasn't the only reason.
Some years before, I'd had a letter from hooker.
We were corresponding about a French botanist, Frédéric Gérard.
Hooker had no great opinion of him.
Ah, here it is.
"I am not inclined," he said, "to take much for granted "from anyone who treats the subject in this way "and does not know what it is To be a specific naturalist himself.
" That struck home.
Oh, he meant nothing against you.
It was painful to me.
It reminded me that although perhaps I had established My credentials in geology and systematic biology Perhaps? I could be accused of being an amateur.
Oh, my dear Charles! It struck me that I hardly had the right To examine the question of species Without having minutely examined many of them.
Hmm, barnacles again.
I remember taking Georgie to play at the Hammond And the first thing he asked young will was, "where does your papa keep his barnacles?" It seemed that you were at them for an age.
Oh, eight years.
I came to hate them as no man ever did before, Not even a sailor on a slow-sailing ship.
But you published your barnacle book, And you received the royal medal for it And still you wouldn't make your theory public? There was still too much I didn't understand, Too many areas unexplored.
Or were you procrastinating? Hmm.
How can I defend myself against that charge? Here, take this.
I've been working on a model of a beehive cell.
Now, according to certain mathematicians, Hive bees construct their cells In order to hold the greatest possible amount of honey While producing the least possible amount of wax.
I've discovered that various species construct their cells To varying degrees of excellence.
What does this mean? That they are at various stages of evolution.
Let us ask, How could a long succession Of modified architectural instincts Have profited the progenitors of the hive bee? Bees consume from 12 to 15 pounds of sugar To create a single pound of wax.
In addition, it takes a great deal of time to make the wax.
Hence the wax has a great value to bees, And anything that saves them some Increases their chances of survival And their ability to multiply.
The advanced cell-making instincts Of modern hive bees can be explained By natural selection having taken advantage Of numerous, successive, Slight modifications of simple instincts.
Phew! In fact it fails, unless it can be shown to apply In every aspect of nature from great issues, such as instinct, To lesser matters, such as seed dispersal.
Oh, lord.
Frankie's dead bird! Ugh.
Is it a drink, papa? He's making seawater, Lenny.
I'm trying to find out how long plants and seeds can survive In seawater.
I've already found out that asparagus can float For 23 days, if fresh and green, and 85 if you dry it out first.
And the seeds, they are still alive and they germinate.
Cabbage seeds, on the other hand I hate cabbage.
But you'll be pleased to know That they quickly get rotten and sink.
Good! Now, of course seeds can travel in many other ways.
Can anyone think of any ways? Fly! Like dandelions.
Quite right, Etty.
Any other ways? Well, they can stick to birds' feet.
They can be picked up in one place And washed off in another.
And then of course the birds eat the seeds And don't necessarily digest them all and, uh That's another way they can travel.
Papa? Yes? Dead birds float.
What if there were seeds inside a dead bird And it was in the sea and it floated? Excellent, Frankie.
I hadn't thought of that.
All right, Let us put our seeds in our containers.
Would you pass me the seeds, Etty? Horace, that's for you.
Grab your beaker and, um, put some salt in it.
No, these ones; asparagus, thank you.
Salt.
Well done.
Now shake it up and down.
How's this, papa? Shake it up a little more.
Make sure you shake it up really well.
Come on, Joe.
I propose As a first experiment, We leave this in a salt bath for 30 days.
Are we agreed, professor Frankie? Agreed, professor papa.
You avoided the next part.
I most certainly did.
This is absolutely disgusting.
Ohh Gently.
Here we go.
They've germinated, papa.
Indeed they have.
I'll make a note of that.
Seeds gerominated.
Well, my heartfelt congratulations, Professor Frankie.
Even Parslow complained about the smell of it.
Did he? You never told me.
I never tell you half the complaints I receive About your stinks and stenches.
A good thing, no doubt.
Well, they're all in a good cause.
I never thought we were enduring them all To have Mr.
Wallace run off with the prize.
Oh, Emma.
Write to Lyell and hooker about it.
See what advice they give.
They're both eminent scientists and honorable men.
That's an excellent idea.
Excellent.
Very good to see you at down house Again, miss Wedgwood.
Oh, thank you, Parslow.
My dear, dear sister.
Emma.
So glad you could come.
It's so good to see you.
Elizabeth.
Good to see you.
You must be tired.
Oh, quite the journey! Oh, my dear.
My dearest dear.
The children must come to me.
All of them.
And you and Charles.
It's not that.
It's It's Charles.
He stands to lose everything.
His whole life's work.
"My dear Lyell, I am very, very sorry to trouble you, "busy as you are.
"but if you will give me your deliberate opinion, "there is nothing in Wallace's sketch "which is not written much fuller "in my sketch copied in 1844 "and read by hooker a dozen years ago.
"I should be extremely glad now "to publish a sketch of my general views, But I cannot persuade myself that I can do so honorably.
" Oh, I'm so desperately worried.
What with Etty so sick and now the baby, I think it may prove too much for Charles.
You know how wretched his health is.
He's thinking of Annie.
He doesn't say anything, but I know he is.
You've enough fortitude To carry you both through this storm.
Have I? I'll never forget how brave you were when Annie died.
Was I brave? Didn't I cry all the time? You cried, yes, but not violently.
You tended to their needs With all your usual thoughtfulness.
You don't know what a comfort it is To have you here.
"I would far rather burn my whole book "than that he or any other man should think "that I had behaved in a paltry spirit.
"this is a trumpery affair to trouble you with, "but you cannot tell how much obliged I should be For your advice.
" On the way over, I was so thinking of our visit To Italy with papa.
Do you remember when we crossed the Alps And how we were nearly tipped out into the snow? I remember it was so cold.
The windows were frozen on the inside.
And Rome! I'll never forget how roundly you condemned The Sistine Chapel! Well, it was so hideous.
You were quite furious with Michelangelo For wasting his talents on something so ugly.
Oh, and do you remember that awful hum of an evening With those German women? And that most peculiar reception Of the Princess Doria for poor pilgrims.
Do you remember? The Queen of Etruria's daughters And those two Ruspoli princesses Carrying trays about like waiters! Hello.
I'd like you to look this over Before I send it to Lyell.
Yes.
Elizabeth.
Will you have some tea, Charles? Uh, no, thank you.
I was saying to Emma That unless things improve here, You must all come to me at Hartfield.
I'm not sure I like Your postscript much.
It's not a "trumpery letter" Anit's not influenced by trumpery feelings.
There's one aspect that still troubles me.
I never wanted to publish just a sketch.
I always wanted To set out my theory fully In the big book.
Ah, the big book.
Emma told you? Yes.
What a thing.
Hmm.
Parslow will take it.
I can't pretend there's any improvement.
In fact, I'm sorry to say he's somewhat worse.
But I see no cause for undue alarm.
Lenny, hurry up.
We're already late as it is.
I saw that.
Etty is coming along well, But I can't say I'm entirely sanguine About the boy's condition.
Thank you.
"the children were very pleased with this sight, "and while bobby was thinking of something else, "he took the sixpence out of his pocket "and began playing with it.
"at last he put it in his pocket again, "but it was into the one with the hole Hole in it.
"and bobby thought again of the sixpence and felt for it, "but it was gone.
He felt in the other pocket, but with no better success.
" "'oh Lizzy, the sixpence is gone! What shall I do?'" I saw the doctor as we were coming back from church.
He's hot.
Has he slept at all? Yes, I read to him.
That seemed to do the trick.
And then he just woke up.
You go for your walk.
I'll sit with him now.
Charles.
Don't torment yourself.
Shh.
Papa.
Push, please.
Papa.
I'm sorry.
You were thinking.
Yes, it's a very bad habit of mine.
What were you thinking? I was thinking A little girl on a swing is a perfect example Of newton's law of motion.
Who's newton? Isaac newton is the father of modern science.
Was he a good father? Did he push it on a swing? Well, yes, in a way, that's exactly what he did.
He realized that in nature, Objects tend towards a state of inertia, That is, they stay still, until an external force is applied.
Like this! Hang on, we're going high! Too high, papa.
Whoa! We're going to vernal, to Kitty Kumplings.
We're going to see Dr.
Gully.
He made your papa well, And he's going to make you well.
Move on.
"my dearest Emma, "she went to her final sleep most tranquilly, "most sweetly, at 12:00 today.
"our poor, dear child had a very short life "but, I trust, happy, "and god only knows "what miseries might have been in store for her.
"she expired without a sigh.
"how desolate it makes one "to think of her frank, cordial manners.
"we must be more and more to each other, my dear wife.
"when I shall return I cannot say.
My own poor, dear wife.
" Mornin', Mr.
Parslow.
Mornin', Mr.
Barker.
Thank ye.
Thank you, Parslow.
Sir.
Emma.
Shh.
Sorry.
It's from Lyell.
He's been in touch with hooker.
I think they've found a solution.
There's to be a meeting of the Linnean society On the 1st of July.
They propose that my sketch of '44 Along with my letter to Gray Be read out in conjunction with Wallace's paper.
I think it meets the case.
It would be an honorable outcome.
Well done.
He Oh, my poor, dear darling! Oh, my Emma! "my dear hooker.
"you will be most sorry for us when you hear "that poor baby died yesterday evening.
"I am quite prostrated and can do nothing, "but I send Wallace's paper and my abstract and letter to Gray.
"I dare say it is all too late.
"I hardly care about it.
"it is miserable in me to care at all about priority.
"god bless you, my dear, kind friend.
I can write no more.
" "man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live "and is full of misery.
In the midst of life we are in death.
" Extracts from papers By Mr.
Charles Darwin and Mr.
Alfred Russel Wallace.
Part one by Mr.
Darwin.
"on variation under domestication" And "on the principles of selection.
" Of whom may we seek for succor, But of thee o lord, Who for our sins art justly displeased.
"be it remembered, "I have nothing to say about life and mind "and all forms descending from one common type.
"I speak of the variation "of the existing great divisions of the organized kingdom.
Nature could effect, with selection, such changes slowly.
" For as much as it hath pleased Almighty God of His great mercy To take unto himself The soul of our dear brother here departed, We therefore commit his body Earth to earth, Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
"we know the state of the earth has changed, "and as earthquakes and tides go on, the state must change Many geologists believe a slow, natural cooling.
" Extracts from a paper by Mr.
Alfred Russel Wallace, "on the tendency of varieties to depart indefinitely From the original type" Anything from Lyell or hooker? Yes.
It seems my learned brethren of the Linnean society Were entirely uninterested in my sketch and Wallace's paper.
The president was overheard as saying it had been a dull year, With no striking discoveries.
Are you disappointed? Or relieved? Well, they were only sketches.
What is it? Out with it.
Lyell is urging me to publish a fuller text.
You mean to do it? Well, if If I do, there'd be no escaping The full implications of my theory.
Then watch out for squalls.
You know, I've always found it difficult to talk About matters religious.
I find writing so much easier.
Do you remember, soon after we were engaged, I wrote to you? Remember it? I have most of it by heart.
You were afraid that our opinions On the most important subject should differ so widely.
I said that honest and conscientious doubts Could never be a sin.
You did.
I still think so.
But you felt that it would be a painful void between us.
You were always completely open with me about it And I was grateful for that.
My father My father advised me To be the very opposite of open.
Emma! Well, she'll make the best possible wife for you.
A very pretty girl.
With a brain, too! There's only one drawback I can see.
Religion.
She's pious like all the Wedgwood women.
Emma's a unitarian, father.
Do you remember how grandfather Described unitarianism? A feather bed for falling Christians! Unitarianism may be a wishy-washy sort of Christianity Compared with your fire-breathing evangelicals, Emma believes in things, In the afterlife, hellfire and so on, that I assume you don't.
Well, I'm less certain than I used to be.
Well, I don't believe in them.
Your grandfather didn't.
But to women of Emma's cast of mind, They are matters vital importance.
No need to look so despondent.
The way round it is to pay lip service, go to church And all that sort of thing, if possible avoid discussions And above all, never, under any circumstances, Reveal your true opinions.
So you went against your father's advice? I'm so glad you did.
That letter I wrote, just before we married.
I asked you to do something for me, To read our savior's farewell discourse to his disciples.
You said it was your favorite part Of the new testament.
You said it was so full of love to them and devotion And every beautiful feeling.
You remembered.
Well, it was my favorite part, too, When I was at university.
I wanted you to read it.
I hardly know why.
But I never wanted you to give me your opinion of it.
And do you want to hear it now? Not much.
But I will.
Well, they are beautiful words.
"a new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another as I have loved you.
" But reason raises grave doubts As to whether Jesus ever said them.
By reason you mean those horrid German scholars.
Horrid they may be, but they are scholars, As you know yourself.
You've read some of them.
Most uneasily.
Down the centuries, Millions of people have responded, as I do, To that message of love and hope and beauty.
I think there's beauty, and grandeur, in a view of life Having been originally breathed into perhaps a single form, And that from so simple a beginning, Endless forms, most beautiful and wonderful, Have been, and are being, evolved.
Some of the finest, most intellectual minds Have acknowledged the truth of religion.
Yes, but they would have to say That others with fine intellectual minds, Like my father, my brother, my grandfather, Who cannot accept the dogmas of the Christian faith, Are to burn in eternal hellfire.
It was after Annie died You stopped going to church.
Was that the final blow? Such a painful, cruel thing.
It makes it difficult to believe in an all-powerful, All-loving god, But even before then.
I have looked deep into the book of nature.
I have seen its endless cycles of predation and death.
The ichneumon wasp lays its eggs inside a living caterpillar.
When the larvae hatch, they devour the host From the inside.
Is this the work of a benign creator? At the same time, I'm like everyone else.
I don't want to die.
It would be a comfort to believe That our love could go on forever.
I do believe it.
I do believe we are never parted from those that we love.
I sometimes think the whole subject is too profound For human intellect.
A dog might as well speculate on the mind of newton.
Have you come to any decision about publishing? Yes.
No.
I'm not sure.
It would raise such a storm.
I'm not so sure.
I've thought of little else these last few days.
The great difficulty I see is man, The notion of man as having descended From animals rather than made In the image of god, of man without a soul.
If that could be avoided.
I've never inclined to be explicit about it.
Quite the opposite.
But of course it's implicit In the general thrust of the argument.
When my sister fanny died, I was heartbroken.
But my faith wasn't shaken.
But when Annie died, I think I ceased to believe, Only for a moment, But it gave me a greater understanding.
I think you must publish.
It's not only you, Emma.
There's the family, our friends, To say nothing of the public at large.
You'd be sorry to see me an object of hatred.
We must think very carefully.
Have you thought? About publishing? I suppose you're going to prove it's an animal.
"when on board HMS Beagle, as a naturalist, "I was much struck with certain facts in the distribution "of the inhabitants of south America "and in the geological relations "of the present to the past inhabitants of that continent.
"these facts seem to me to throw some light On the origin of species, that 'mystery of mysteries.
'" Emma! Good morning.
Mr.
Darwin! Thank you.
Thank you very much.
Boys, where's your mother? Have a look at this.
Quickly.
Emma, Emma.
Is it your adomiball volume, papa? Abominable, Lenny.
Yes.
It's my abominable volume.
Catch me!