The Autobiography of Charles DarwinDarwin, Charles
Science
The Autobiography of Charles Darwin
Darwin, Charles
Darwin, Charles, 1809-1882; Darwin, Charles, 1809-1882. On the origin of species; Naturalists -- Great Britain -- Biography
Early in my school days a boy had a copy of the ‘Wonders of the World,’
which I often read, and disputed with other boys about the veracity of
some of the statements; and I believe that this book first gave me a
wish to travel in remote countries, which was ultimately fulfilled by
the voyage of the “Beagle”. In the latter part of my school life I
became passionately fond of shooting; I do not believe that any one
could have shown more zeal for the most holy cause than I did for
shooting birds. How well I remember killing my first snipe, and my
excitement was so great that I had much difficulty in reloading my gun
from the trembling of my hands. This taste long continued, and I became
a very good shot. When at Cambridge I used to practise throwing up my
gun to my shoulder before a looking-glass to see that I threw it up
straight. Another and better plan was to get a friend to wave about a
lighted candle, and then to fire at it with a cap on the nipple, and if
the aim was accurate the little puff of air would blow out the candle.
The explosion of the cap caused a sharp crack, and I was told that the
tutor of the college remarked, “What an extraordinary thing it is, Mr.
Darwin seems to spend hours in cracking a horse-whip in his room, for I
often hear the crack when I pass under his windows.”
I had many friends amongst the schoolboys, whom I loved dearly, and I
think that my disposition was then very affectionate.
With respect to science, I continued collecting minerals with much
zeal, but quite unscientifically—all that I cared about was a
new-_named_ mineral, and I hardly attempted to classify them. I must
have observed insects with some little care, for when ten years old
(1819) I went for three weeks to Plas Edwards on the sea-coast in
Wales, I was very much interested and surprised at seeing a large black
and scarlet Hemipterous insect, many moths (Zygaena), and a Cicindela
which are not found in Shropshire. I almost made up my mind to begin
collecting all the insects which I could find dead, for on consulting
my sister I concluded that it was not right to kill insects for the
sake of making a collection. From reading White’s ‘Selborne,’ I took
much pleasure in watching the habits of birds, and even made notes on
the subject. In my simplicity I remember wondering why every gentleman
did not become an ornithologist.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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