Chapter VI: Part I: (Continued) (2)

Again, I entirely deny that by _any means_ the exact effect of a landscape with objects at various distances from the eye can be given on a fiat surface; and moreover that the monocular clear outlined view is quite as true and good on the whole as the binocular hazy outlined view, and for this reason: we cannot and do not see clearly or look at two objects at once, if at different distances from us. In a real view our eyes are directed successively at every object, which we then see clearly and with distinct outlines, everything else--nearer and farther--being indistinct; but being able to change the focal angle of our two eyes and their angle of direction with great rapidity, we are enabled to glance rapidly at each object in succession and thus obtain a general and detailed view of the whole. A house, a tree, a spire, the leaves of a shrub in the foreground, are each seen (while we direct our eyes to them) with perfect definition and sharpness of outline. Now a monocular photo gives the clearness of outline and accuracy of definition, and thus represents every individual part of a landscape just as we see it when looking at that part. Now I maintain that this is _right_, because no painting can represent an object both distinct and indistinct. The only question is, Shall a painting show us objects as we see them when looking at them, or as we see them when looking at _something else_ near them? The only approach painters can make to this varying effect of binocular vision, and what they often do, is to give the most important and main feature of their painting _distinct_ as we should see it when looking at it in nature, while all around has a subdued tone and haziness of outline like that produced by seeing the real objects when our vision is not absolutely directed to them. But then if, as in nature, when you turn your gaze to one of these objects in order to see it clearly, you cannot do so, this is a defect. Again, I believe that we actually see in a good photograph better than in nature, because the best camera lenses are more perfectly adjusted than our eyes, and give objects at varying distances with better definition. Thus in a picture we see at the same time near and distinct objects easily and clearly, which in reality we cannot do. If we could do so, everyone must acknowledge that our vision would be so much the more perfect and our appreciation of the beauties of nature more intense and complete; and in so far as a good landscape painting gives us this power it is better than nature itself; and I think this may account for that excessive and entrancing beauty of a good landscape or of a good panorama. You will think these ideas horribly heterodox, but if we all thought alike there would be nothing to write about and nothing to learn. I quite agree with you, however, as to artists using both eyes to paint and to see their paintings, but I think you quite mistake the theory of looking through the "catalogue"; it is not because the picture can be seen better with one eye, but because its effect can be better seen when all lateral objects are hidden--the catalogue does this. A double tube would be better, but that cannot be extemporised so easily. Have you ever tried a stereograph taken with the camera only the distance apart of the eyes? That must give _nature_. When the angle is greater the views in the stereoscope show us, not nature, but a perfect reduced model of nature seen nearer the eye.

It is curious that you should put Turner and the Pre-Raphaelites as _opposed_ and representing _binocular_ and _monocular_ painting when Turner himself praises up the Pre-Raphaelites and calls Holman Hunt the greatest living painter!!...

Now for Mr. Darwin's book. You quite misunderstand Mr. D.'s statement in the preface and his sentiments. I have, of course, been in correspondence with him since I first sent him my little essay. His conduct has been most liberal and disinterested. I think anyone who reads the Linnean Society papers and his book will see it. I _do_ back him up in his whole round of conclusions and look upon him as the _Newton of Natural History_.

You begin by criticising the _title_. Now, though I consider the title admirable, I believe it is not Mr. Darwin's but the Publisher's, as you are no doubt aware that publishers _will_ have a taking title, and authors must and do give way to them. Mr. D. gave me a different title before the book came out. Again, you misquote and misunderstand Huxley, who is a complete convert. Prof. Asa Gray and Dr. Hooker, the two first botanists of Europe and America, are converts. And Lyell, the first geologist living, who has all his life written against such conclusions as Darwin arrives at, is a convert and is about to declare or already has declared his conversion--a noble and almost unique example of a man yielding to conviction on a subject which he has taught as a master all his life, and confessing that he has all his life been wrong.

It is clear that you have not yet sufficiently read the book to enable you to criticise it. It is a book in which every page and almost every line has a bearing on the main argument, and it is very difficult to bear in mind such a variety of facts, arguments and indications as are brought forward. It was only on the _fifth_ perusal that I fully appreciated the whole strength of the work, and as I had been long before familiar with the same subjects I cannot but think that persons less familiar with them cannot have any clear idea of the accumulated argument by a single perusal.

Your objections, so far as I can see anything definite in them, are so fully and clearly anticipated and answered in the book itself that it is perfectly useless my saying anything about them. It seems to me, however, as clear as daylight that the principle of Natural Selection _must_ act in nature. It is almost as necessary a truth as any of mathematics. Next, the effects produced by this action _cannot be limited._ It cannot be shown that there _is_ any limit to them in nature. Again, the millions of facts in the numerical relations of organic beings, their geographical distribution, their relations of affinity, the modification of their parts and organs, the phenomena of intercrossing, embryology and morphology--all are in accordance with his theory, and almost all are necessary results from it; while on the other theory they are all isolated facts having no connection with each other and as utterly inexplicable and confusing as fossils are on the theory that they are special creations and are not the remains of animals that have once lived. It is the vast _chaos_ of facts, which are explicable and fall into beautiful order on the one theory, which are inexplicable and remain a chaos on the other, which I think must ultimately force Darwin's views on any and every reflecting mind. Isolated difficulties and objections are nothing against this vast cumulative argument. The human mind cannot go on for ever accumulating facts which remain unconnected and without any mutual bearing and bound together by no law. The evidence for the production of the organic world by the simple laws of inheritance is exactly of the same nature as that for the production of the present surface of the earth--hills and valleys, plains, rocks, strata, volcanoes, and all their fossil remains--by the slow and natural action of natural causes now in operation. The mind that will ultimately reject Darwin must (to be consistent) reject Lyell also. The same arguments of apparent stability which are thought to disprove that organic species can change will also disprove any change in the inorganic world, and you must believe with your forefathers that each hill and each river, each inland lake and continent, were created as they stand, with their various strata and their various fossils--all appearances and arguments to the contrary notwithstanding. I can only recommend you to read again Darwin's account of the horse family and its comparison with pigeons; and if that does not convince and stagger you, then you are unconvertible. I do not expect Mr. Darwin's larger work will add anything to the general strength of his argument. It will consist chiefly of the details (often numerical) and experiments and calculations of which he has already given the summaries and results. It will therefore be more confusing and less interesting to the general reader. It will prove to scientific men the accuracy of his details, and point out the sources of his information, but as not one in a thousand readers will ever test these details and references the smaller work will remain for general purposes the best....

I see that the Great Exhibition for 1862 seems determined on. If so it will be a great inducement to me to cut short the period of my banishment and get home in time to see it. I assure you I now feel at times very great longings for the peace and quiet of home--very much weariness of this troublesome, wearisome, wandering life. I have lost some of that elasticity and freshness which made the overcoming of difficulties a pleasure, and the country and people are now too familiar to me to retain any of the charms of novelty which gild over so much that is really monotonous and disagreeable. My health, too, gives way, and I cannot now put up so well with fatigue and privations as at first. All these causes will induce me to come home as soon as possible, and I think I may promise, if no accident happens, to come back to dear and beautiful England in the summer of next year. C. Allen will stay a year longer and complete the work which I shall not be able to do.

I have been pretty comfortable here, having for two months had the society of Mr. Geach, a Cornish mining engineer who has been looking for copper here. He is a very intelligent and pleasant fellow, but has now left. Another Englishman, Capt. Hart, is a resident here. He has a little house on the foot of the hills two miles out of town; I have a cottage (which was Mr. Geach's) a quarter of a mile farther. He is what you may call a _speculative_ man: he reads a good deal, knows a little and wants to know more, and is fond of speculating on the most abstruse and unattainable points of science and philosophy. You would be astonished at the number of men among the captains and traders of these parts who have more than an average amount of literary and scientific taste; whereas among the naval and military officers and various Government officials very few have any such taste, but find their only amusements in card-playing and dissipation. Some of the most intelligent and best informed Dutchmen I have met with are trading captains and merchants.

This country much resembles Australia in its physical features, and is very barren compared with most of the other islands.... It is very rugged and mountainous, having no true forests, but a scanty vegetation of gum trees with a few thickets in moist places. It is consequently very poor in insects, and in fact will hardly pay my expenses; but having once come here I may as well give it a fair trial. Birds are tolerably abundant, but with few exceptions very dull coloured. I really believe the whole series of birds of the tropical island of Timor are less beautiful and bright-coloured than those of Great Britain. In the mountains potatoes, cabbages and wheat are grown in abundance, and so we get excellent pure bread made by Chinamen in Delli. Fowls, sheep, pigs and onions are also always to be had, so that it is the easiest country to live in I have yet met with, as in most other places one is always doubtful whether a dinner can be obtained. I have been a trip to the hills and stayed ten days in the clouds, but it was very wet, being the wrong season....

Having now paid you off my literary debts, I trust you will give me credit again for some long letters on things in general. Address now to care of Hamilton, Gray and Co., Singapore, and with love and remembrances to all friends, I remain, my dear Thomas, yours very faithfully,

ALFRED R. WALLACE.

P.S.-- ... Will you, next time you visit my mother, make me a little plan of her cottage, showing the rooms and their dimensions, so that I may see if there will be room enough for me on my return? I shall want a good-sized room for my collections, and when I can decide exactly on my return it would be as well to get a little larger house beforehand if necessary. Please do not forget this.--Yours, A.R.W.

P.S.--Write by next mail, as circumstances have occurred which make it possible I may return home this year.--A.R.W.

P.S.--You allude in your last letter to a subject I never touch upon because I know we cannot agree upon it. However, I will now say a few words, that you may know my opinions, and if you wish to convert me to your way of thinking, take more vigorous measures to effect it. You intimate that the happiness to be enjoyed in a future state will depend upon, and be a reward for, our belief in certain doctrines which you believe to constitute the essence of true religion. You must think, therefore, that belief is _voluntary_ and also that it is _meritorious_. But I think that a little consideration will show you that belief is quite independent of our will, and our common expressions show it. We say, "I wish I could believe him innocent, but the evidence is too clear "; or, "Whatever people may say, I can never believe he can do such a mean action." Now, suppose in any similar case the evidence on both sides leads you to a certain belief or disbelief, and then a reward is offered you for changing your opinion. Can you really change your opinion and belief, for the hope of reward or the fear of punishment? Will you not say, "As the matter stands I can't change my belief. You must give me proofs that I am wrong or show that the evidence I have heard is false, and then I may change my belief "? It may be that you do get more and do change your belief. But this change is not voluntary on your part. It depends upon the force of evidence upon your individual mind, and the evidence remaining the same and your mental faculties remaining unimpaired--you cannot believe otherwise any more than you can fly.

Belief, then, is not voluntary. How, then, can it be meritorious? When a jury try a case, all hear the same evidence, but nine say "Guilty" and three "Not guilty," according to the honest belief of each. Are either of these more worthy of reward on that account than the others? Certainly you will say No! But suppose beforehand they all know or suspect that those who say "Not guilty" will be punished and the rest rewarded: what is likely to be the result? Why, perhaps six will say "Guilty" honestly believing it, and glad they can with a clear conscience escape punishment; three will say "Not guilty" boldly, and rather bear the punishment than be false or dishonest; the other three, fearful of being convinced against their will, will carefully stop their ears while the witnesses for the defence are being examined, and delude themselves with the idea they give an honest verdict because they have heard only one side of the evidence. If any out of the dozen deserve punishment, you will surely agree with me it is these. Belief or disbelief is therefore not meritorious, and when founded on an unfair balance of evidence is blameable.

Now to apply the principles to my own case. In my early youth I heard, as ninety-nine-hundredths of the world do, only the evidence on one side, and became impressed with a veneration for religion which has left some traces even to this day. I have since heard and read much on both sides, and pondered much upon the matter in all its bearings. I spent, as you know, a year and a half in a clergyman's family and heard almost every Tuesday the very best, most earnest and most impressive preacher it has ever been my fortune to meet with, but it produced no effect whatever on my mind. I have since wandered among men of many races and many religions. I have studied man, and nature in all its aspects, and I have sought after truth. In my solitude I have pondered much on the incomprehensible subjects of space, eternity, life and death. I think I have fairly heard and fairly weighed the evidence on both sides, and I remain an _utter disbeliever_ in almost all that you consider the most sacred truths. I will pass over as utterly contemptible the oft-repeated accusation that sceptics shut out evidence because they will not be governed by the morality of Christianity. You I know will not believe that in my case, and _I_ know its falsehood as a general rule. I only ask, Do you think I can change the self-formed convictions of twenty-five years, and could you think such a change would have anything in it to merit _reward_ from _justice_? I am thankful I can see much to admire in all religions. To the mass of mankind religion of some kind is a necessity. But whether there be a God and whatever be His nature; whether we have an immortal soul or not, or whatever may be our state after death, I can have no fear of having to suffer for the study of nature and the search for truth, or believe that those will be better off in a future state who have lived in the belief of doctrines inculcated from childhood, and which are to them rather a matter of blind faith than intelligent conviction.--A.R.W.

This for yourself; show the _letter only_ to my mother.

* * * * *

TO HIS MOTHER

_Sourabaya, Java. July 20, 1861._

My dear Mother,--I am, as you will see, now commencing my retreat westwards, and have left the wild and savage Moluccas and New Guinea for Java, the Garden of the East, and probably without any exception the finest island in the world. My plans are to visit the interior and collect till November, and then work my way to Singapore so as to return home and arrive in the spring. Travelling here will be a much pleasanter business than in any other country I have visited, as there are good roads, regular posting stages, and regular inns or lodging-houses all over the interior, and I shall no more be obliged to carry about with me that miscellaneous lot of household furniture--bed, blankets, pots, kettles and frying pan, plates, dishes and wash-basin, coffee-pots and coffee, tea, sugar and butter, salt, pickles, rice, bread and wine, pepper and curry powder, and half a hundred more odds and ends, the constant looking after which, packing and repacking, calculating and contriving, have been the standing plague of my life for the last seven years. You will better understand this when I tell you that I have made in that time about eighty movements, averaging one a month, at every one of which all of these articles have had to be rearranged and repacked by myself according to the length of the trip, besides a constant personal supervision to prevent waste or destruction of stores in places where it is impossible to supply them.

Fanny wrote me last month to know about how I should like to live on my return. Of course, my dear mother, I should not think of living anywhere but with you, after such a long absence, if you feel yourself equal to housekeeping for us both; and I have always understood that your cottage would be large enough. The accommodation I should require is, besides a small bedroom, one large room, or a small one if there is, besides, a kind of lumber room where I could keep my cases and do rough and dirty work. I expect soon from Thomas a sketch-plan of your cottage, by which I can at once tell if it will do. If not, I must leave you and Fanny to arrange as you like about a new residence. I should prefer being a little way out of town in a quiet neighbourhood and with a garden, but near an omnibus route, and if necessary I could lodge at any time for a week in London. This, I think, will be better and much cheaper than living close to town, and rents anywhere in the West End are sure now to rise owing to the approaching Great Exhibition. I must of course study economy, as the little money I have made will not be all got in for a year or two after my return....

You must remember to write to me by the middle of November mail, as that is probably the last letter I can receive from you.

I send the letter to Fanny, who will most likely call on you and talk over matters. I am a little confused arriving in a new place with a great deal to do and living in a noisy hotel, so different to my usual solitary life, so that I cannot well collect my ideas to write any more, but must remain, my dear mother, your ever affectionate son,

ALFRED R. WALLACE.

* * * * *

TO HIS SISTER, MRS. SIMS

_In the Mountains of Java. October 10, 1861._

My dear Fanny,--I have just received your second letter in praise of your new house. As I have said my say about it in my last, I shall now send you a few lines on other subjects.

I have been staying here a fortnight 4,000 feet above the sea in a fine cool climate, but it is unfortunately dreadfully wet and cloudy. I have just returned from a three days' excursion to one of the great Java volcanoes 10,000 feet high. I slept two nights in a house 7,500 feet above the sea. It was bitterly cold at night, as the hut was merely of plaited bamboo, like a sieve, so that the wind came in on all sides. I had flannel jackets and blankets and still was cold, and my poor men, with nothing but their usual thin cotton clothes, passed miserable nights lying on a mat on the ground round the fire which could only warm one side at a time. The highest peak is an extinct volcano with the crater nearly filled up, forming merely a saucer on the top, in which is a good house built by the Government for the old Dutch naturalists who surveyed and explored the mountain. There are a lot of strawberries planted there, which do very well, but there were not many ripe. The common weeds and plants of the top were very like English ones, such as buttercups, sow-thistle, plantain, wormwood, chickweed, charlock, St. John's wort, violets and many others, all closely allied to our common plants of those names, but of distinct species. There was also a honey-suckle, and a tall and very pretty kind of cowslip. None of these are found in the low tropical lands, and most of them only on the tops of these high mountains. Mr. Darwin supposed them to have come there during a glacial or very cold period, when they could have spread over the tropics and, as the heat increased, gradually rose up the mountains. They were, as you may imagine, most interesting to me, and I am very glad that I have ascended _one_ lofty mountain in the tropics, though I had miserable wet weather and had no view, owing to constant clouds and mist.

I also visited a semi-active volcano close by continually sending out steam with a noise like a blast-furnace--quite enough to give me a conception of all other descriptions of volcanoes.

The lower parts of the mountains of Java, from 3,000 to 6,000 feet, have the most beautiful tropical vegetation I have ever seen. Abundance of splendid tree ferns, some 50 ft. high, and some hundreds of varieties of other ferns, beautiful-leaved plants as begonias, melastomas, and many others, and more flowers than are generally seen in the tropics. In fact, this region exhibits all the beauty the tropics can produce, but still I consider and will always maintain that our own meadows and woods and mountains are more beautiful. Our own weeds and wayside flowers are far prettier and more varied than those of the tropics. It is only the great leaves and the curious-looking plants, and the deep gloom of the forests and the mass of tangled vegetation that astonish and delight Europeans, and it is certainly grand and interesting and in a certain sense beautiful, but not the calm, sweet, warm beauty of our own fields, and there is none of the brightness of our own flowers; a field of buttercups, a hill of gorse or of heather, a bank of foxgloves and a hedge of wild roses and purple vetches surpass in _beauty_ anything I have ever seen in the tropics. This is a favourite subject with me, but I cannot go into it now.

Send the accompanying note to Mr. Stevens immediately. You will see what I say to him about my collections here. Java is the richest of all the islands in birds, but they are as well known as those of Europe, and it is almost impossible to get a new one. However, I am adding fine specimens to my collection, which will be altogether the finest known of the birds of the Archipelago, except perhaps that of the Leyden Museum, who have had naturalists collecting for them in all the chief islands for many years with unlimited means.

Give my kind love to mother, to whom I will write next time.--Your affectionate brother,

ALFRED R. WALLACE.

* * * * *

TO G. SILK[16]

_Singapore. January 20, 1862._

My dear George,-- ... On the question of marriage we probably differ much. I believe a good wife to be the greatest blessing a man can enjoy, and the only road to happiness, but the qualifications I should look for are probably not such as would satisfy you. My opinions have changed much on this point: I now look at intellectual companionship as quite a secondary matter, and should my good stars ever send me an affectionate, good-tempered and domestic wife, I shall care not one iota for accomplishments or even for education.

I cannot write more now. I do not yet know how long I shall be here, perhaps a month. Then ho! for England!--In haste, yours most affectionately,

ALFRED R. WALLACE.