abilities of their future, have been the subject of about as
much controversy as in a given time has been bestowed upon any subject,
certainly on any similar subject. But we enjoy here the privilege of
neglecting this almost entirely. Darwin is to the literary historian a
very interesting subject, for he was the grandson of Erasmus Darwin, who
himself, besides being the capital example of the polished mediocrity of
eighteenth century verse when all freshness had gone out of it, was a
man of science and an evolutionist in his way. Charles (who was also
christened Robert) was the son of yet another Dr. Darwin, an F.R.S. He
was born on 12th February 1809 at Shrewsbury, and his mother was (as was
afterwards his wife) a daughter of the Wedgwoods of Etruria. After
passing through the famous school of his native town, Darwin went to
Edinburgh for some years and then entered Christ's College, Cambridge,
in 1828. Here he devoted himself to physical science, and after taking
his degree was, in 1831, appointed to the _Beagle_, which was starting
on a scientific cruise. He spent five years in the South Seas and did
not return to England till late in 1836--a voyage which perhaps
prejudicially affected his health, but established his knowledge of
nature. After his return he settled down to scientific work, alone and
in the scientific societies, married in 1839, and was busy for many
years afterwards in publishing the results of the voyage. He possessed
considerable means, and for the last forty years of his life lived at
his ease at Down near Beckenham, experimenting in crossing species and
maturing his views. These took form, under circumstances interesting but
foreign to our theme, in the famous _Origin of Species_, published in
1859, and this was followed by a great number of other books, the most
noteworthy of which, if not the scientifically soundest, was _The
Descent of Man_ (1871). Darwin died after many years of continuous
ill-health on 19th April 1882.

Late in life he is said to have confessed that his relish for
Shakespeare and for pure literature generally, which had in earlier days
been keen, had entirely vanished. But there was perhaps nothing very
surprising in this, seeing that he had for half a century given himself
up with extraordinary and ever-increasing thoroughness to a class of
investigations the most remote possible from literature, and yet not, as
pure mathematical study not seldom induces its votaries, induci