No such feeling was inspired by the conditions surrounding the Roman Catholic missionaries whom he met from time to time. In an earlier part of the "Journal" he records an evening spent with one living in a lonely place in South America who, "coming from Santiago, had contrived to surround himself with some few comforts. Being a man of some little education, he bitterly complained of the total want of society. With no particular zeal for religion, no business or pursuit, how completely must this man's life be wasted."
In complete opposition to these views, passages occur in the following letters which show that Wallace thought more highly of the Roman Catholic than of the Protestant missionaries. In one place, speaking of the former, he says: "Most are Frenchmen ... well-educated men who give up their lives for the good of the people they live [pg 038]among, I think Catholics and Protestants are equally wrong, but as missionaries I think Catholics are the best, and I would gladly see none others rather than have, as in New Zealand, sects of native Dissenters more rancorous against each other than in England. The unity of the Catholics is their strength, and an unmarried clergy can do as missionaries what married men never can undertake."
As a sidelight on these contradictory estimates of the same work, it should be borne in mind that Darwin had but recently given up the idea of becoming a clergyman, and doubtless retained some of the instinctive regard for sincere Christian Protestantism (whether represented by the Church of England or by Nonconformists), while Wallace had long since relinquished all doctrinal ideas on religion and all belief in the beneficial effect produced by forms of worship on the individual.
Among the regions Wallace visited was Sarawak. Of one of his sojourns here some interesting reminiscences have been sent to me by Mr. L.V. Helmes. He says:
It was in 1854 that Wallace came to Sarawak. I was there then, sent by a private firm, which later became the Borneo Company, to open up, by mining, manufacture and trade, the resources of the country, and amongst these enterprises was coal-mining on the west. Wallace came in search of new specimens of animal and especially insect life. The clearing of ancient forests at these mines offered a naturalist great opportunities, and I gave Wallace an introduction to our engineer in charge there. His collections of beetles and butterflies there were phenomenal; but the district was also the special home of the great ape, the orang-utan, or meias, as the natives called them, of which he obtained so many valuable specimens. Many notes must at that time have passed between us, for I took much interest in his work. We had put up a temporary hut for him at the mines, and [pg 039]on my occasional visits there I saw him and his young assistant, Charles Allen, at work, admired his beautiful collections, and gave my help in forwarding them.
But it was mainly in social intercourse that we met, when Wallace, in intervals of his labours, came to Ku-ching, and was the Rajah's guest. Then occurred those interesting discussions at social gatherings to which he refers in a letter to me in 1909, when he wrote: "I was pleased to receive your letter, with reminiscences of old times. I often recall those pleasant evenings with Rajah Brooke and our little circle, but since the old Rajah's death I have not met any of the party."
Wallace was in Sarawak at the happy period in the country's history. It was beginning to emerge from barbarism. The Borneo Company was just formed, and the seed of the country's future prosperity was sown. Wallace, therefore, found us all sanguine and cheerful; yet we were on the brink of a disaster which brought many sorrows in its train. But the misfortunes of the Chinese revolt had not yet cast their shadows before them. The Rajah's white guests round his hospitable table; the Malay chiefs and office-holders, who made evening calls from curiosity or to pay their respects; Dyaks squatting in dusky groups in corners of the hall, with petitions to make or advice to seek from their white ruler—such would be the gathering of which Wallace would form a part. No suspicion or foreboding would trouble the company; yet within a few months that hall would be given to the flames of an enemy's torch, and the Rajah himself and many of those who formed that company would be fugitives in the jungle....
The Malay Archipelago, in the unregenerated days when Wallace roamed the forests, and sailed the Straits in native boats and canoes, was full of danger to wanderers of the white race. Anarchy prevailed in many parts; usurping nobles enslaved the people in their houses; and piratical fleets scoured the sea, capturing and enslaving yearly thousands of peaceful traders, women and children. The writer was himself in 1862 besieged in a Bornean river by [pg 040]a pirate fleet, which was eventually destroyed by a Sarawak Government steamer with the following result of the fight: 190 pirates and 140 captives were killed or drowned, and 250 of the latter were liberated and sent to their homes; showing how formidable these pirates were. But Wallace, absorbed in his scientific pursuits, minded not these dangers, nor the hardships of any kind which a roving life in untrodden jungles and feverish swamps brings.
When Wallace left Sarawak after his fifteen months' residence in the country, he left his young assistant, Charles Allen, there. He entered my service, and remained some time after the formation of the Borneo Company. Later, he again joined Wallace, and then went to New Guinea, doing valuable collecting and exploring work. He finally settled in Singapore, where I met him in 1899. He had married and was doing well; but died not long after my interview with him. He had come to the East with Wallace as a lad of 16, and had been his faithful companion and assistant during years of arduous work.—L.V.H.
The eight years spent by Wallace in this almost unknown part of the world were times of strenuous mental and physical exertion, resulting in the gathering together of an enormous amount of matter for future scientific investigation, but counterbalanced unfortunately by more or less continuous ill-health—which at times made the effort of clear reasoning and close application to scientific pursuits extremely difficult.
An indication of the unwearying application with which he went about his task is seen in the fact that during this period he collected 125,660 specimens of natural history, travelled about 14,000 miles within the Archipelago, and made sixty or seventy journeys, "each involving some preparation and loss of time," so that "not more than six years were really occupied in collecting." [pg 041] A faint idea of this long and solitary sojourn in lonely places is given in a letter to his old friend Bates, dated December 24th, 1860, in which he says: "Many thanks for your long and interesting letter. I have myself suffered much in the same way as you describe, and I think more severely. The kind of tædium vitæ you mention I also occasionally experience here. I impute it to a too monotonous existence." And again when he begs his friend to write, as he is "half froze for news."
As already stated, Wallace, at no time during these wanderings, had any escort or protection, having to rely entirely upon his own tact and patience, combined with firmness, in his dealings with the natives. On one occasion he was taken ill, and had to remain six weeks with none but native Papuans around him, and he became so attached to them that when saying good-bye it was with the full intention of returning amongst them at a later period. In another place he speaks of sleeping under cover of an open palm-leaf hut as calmly as under the protection of the Metropolitan Police!
Up to that time, also, he was the only Englishman who had actually seen the beautiful "birds of paradise in their native forests," this success being achieved after "five voyages to different parts of the district they inhabit, each occupying in its preparation and execution the larger part of a year." And then only five species out of a possible fourteen were procured. His enthusiasm as a naturalist and collector knew no bounds, butterflies especially calling into play all his feelings of joy and satisfaction. Describing his first sight of the Ornithoptera croesus, he says that the blood rushed to his head and he felt much more like fainting than he had done when in apprehension of immediate death; a similar sensation being experienced when he came across another large bird-winged butterfly, Ornithoptera poseidon. [pg 042]"It is one thing," he says, "to see such beauty in a cabinet, and quite another to feel it struggling between one's fingers, and to gaze upon its fresh and living beauty, a bright-green gem shining out amid the silent gloom of a dark and tangled forest. The village of Dobbo held that evening at least one contented man."
These thrills of joy may be considered as some compensation for such experiences as those contained in his graphic account of a single journey in a "prau," or native boat. "My first crew," he wrote, "ran away; two men were lost for a month on a desert island; we were ten times aground on coral reefs; we lost four anchors; our sails were devoured by rats; the small boat was lost astern; we were thirty-eight days on the voyage home which should have taken twelve; we were many times short of food and water; we had no compass-lamp owing to there not being a drop of oil in Waigiou when we left; and to crown it all, during the whole of our voyage, occupying in all seventy-eight days (all in what was supposed to be the favourable season), we had not one single day of fair wind."