As he was exact and particular in calculation and measurement, so he shrank from no amount of detail, did not hesitate to carry his investigations to the last point of minuteness, whenever the full and solid breadth of result demanded it. Apparently nothing escaped him. It was not only what he was looking for, but he noted and seized oddities and exceptions for their larger bearing and for future profit. As his son says, ‘A point apparently slight and unconnected with his present work is passed over by many a man almost unconsciously with some half-considered explanation, which is in fact no explanation. It was just these things that he seized on to make a start from.’[35] Thus, on any subject that came up, his memory or his notes could almost always be appealed to. As Sir Thomas Farrer puts it, ‘What interested me was to see that on this as on almost any other point of detailed observation, Mr. Darwin could always say, “Yes, but at one time I made some observations myself on this particular point; and I think you will find, etc., etc.”’[36]
To appreciate this minuteness and thoroughness, it is necessary to examine the less known and less popular books, such as the ‘Cross and Self Fertilization’ and the ‘Different Forms of Flowers.’ In these one is overwhelmed with Darwin’s persistence in examining and noting trivial details. And perhaps most impressive of all is to turn over the pages of the two immensely solid volumes on Cirripedes. For many years Darwin devoted himself to the study of these unexciting barnacles, sometimes wearying, sometimes rebelling, but always keeping at his task until he had completed it. He himself sometimes wondered whether such prolonged toil at mere description was wholly worth while; but Huxley believed that the mental discipline was of the greatest possible profit to Darwin’s later work. In any case the exhaustive thoroughness of it is indeed exemplary. How far this goes may be suggested by one quotation out of many: ‘I cannot too strongly impress on any one intending to study this class, not to trust to external characters; he must separate and clean and carefully examine the internal structure and form of the compartments and more especially of the opercular valves.’[37] And the examination, in Darwin’s case, applied to hundreds of specimens of minute barnacles gathered and sent to him from all parts of the world.
It is hardly necessary to emphasize the enormous amount of labor implied and involved in all these self-imposed tasks of Darwin. Although circumstances compelled him to give a large part of his life to repose, he was by nature a worker. It is true that he sometimes speaks jokingly of his idleness: ‘I have been of late shamefully idle, i.e., observing instead of writing, and how much better fun observing is than writing.’[38] But as Huxley well points out, Darwin generally means by idleness ‘working hard at something he likes when he ought to be occupied with a less attractive subject.’[39] And Darwin’s own more serious comment is, ‘I am a pretty man to preach, for I cannot be idle, much as I wish it, and am never comfortable except when at work.’[40] He complains of fatigue, he forces himself to seek recreation, relaxation; but even when his body is at rest, his mind tends to work, refuses to stop working, finds its only real relief in change of occupation and thought.
And as the labor is impressive, so is the patience. The man was naturally nervous, restless, eager. He wanted results, like the rest of us. Yet after he had conceived a theory which he thought destined to subvert the whole realm of science, he waited twenty years for the thorough observation and testing necessary to put the theory into even tentative form. Of all the great scientific qualities perhaps patience is the most essential and the most difficult, and surely patience never had a more supreme exemplar than Charles Darwin. Sometimes even his enduring persistence is temporarily shaken: ‘My cirripedial task is an eternal one; I make no perceptible progress. I am sure that they belong to the hour-hand, and I groan under my task.’[41] But though he may groan, he never yields. As his son admirably says of him: ‘He used almost to apologize for his patience, saying that he could not bear to be beaten, as if this were rather a sign of weakness on his part.... Perseverance seems hardly to express his almost fierce desire to force the truth to reveal itself. He often said that it was important that a man should know the right point at which to give up an inquiry. And I think it was his tendency to pass this point that inclined him to apologize for his perseverance, and gave the air of doggedness to his work.’[42] The intensity of such patience is best appreciated by those who all their lives have scamped and hurried and slighted and touched a thousand things without ever going to the bottom of a single one.
III
Nothing illustrates better the patience of Darwin, and of course also of hundreds of other scientists who are working as he worked in unknown laboratories all over the world, than the process of simple waiting so often necessary to obtain results. Nature demands time, often enormous time, and the brevity of human life and the evanescence of human opportunity mean nothing to her. The careful working out of scientific investigation requires the study of successive generations, sometimes of many, the sowing of the seed and the gathering of the blossom, the close observation of the individual from conception to death, which can be carried on only through long periods of time. The observer must keep a dozen lines of study in his mind, must maintain them side by side, and must be always ready to turn from one to the other, as some new development arises that demands his attention. It was in this phase of long, renewed, continued, enduring watchfulness that Darwin was preëminent. As well appears in his son’s record: ‘I think it was all due to the vitality and persistence of his mind—a quality I have heard him speak of as if he felt that he was strongly gifted in that respect. Not that he used any such phrases as these about himself, but he would say that he had the power of keeping a subject or question more or less before him for a great many years.’[43] Very little examination of Darwin’s books is required to show how amply and constantly this power was exercised.
And to give such patience and taste for continuity their full effect there is needed almost a passion for system, for orderly arrangement, and the habit of putting not only things but thoughts in their proper places, so that they can be called upon at the right moment in the right way. Darwin himself describes his elaborate method of indexing the books that he read and the notes that he made, so that whenever he wished to deal with any special subject, he could turn at once to material bearing upon it: ‘Before beginning on any subject I look to all the short indexes and make a general and classified index, and by taking the one or more proper portfolios I have all the information collected during my life ready for use.’[44]
Such systematic habits of working both demand and imply an orderly and economical use of time. Owing to his limitations of health, Darwin’s working time was extremely limited, but he made the most of it. Every usable hour was allotted, and the utmost profit and result were extracted from it. No doubt such sense of pressure is in itself not very beneficial to health, but it means an immense amount of work accomplished. The time was employed thriftily as well as intelligently: ‘He saved a great deal of time through not having to do things twice.’[45] And everywhere there is the feeling of the value of minutes which is indicated in Dante’s saying,
Chè’l perder tempo, a chi più sa, più spiace.[46]
Or as Darwin himself expresses it: ‘A man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life.’[47]