The Autobiography of Charles Darwin is an autobiography by the English naturalist Charles Darwin. Darwin wrote the text, which he entitled Recollections of the Development of my Mind and Character, for his family. He states that he started writing it on about May 28, 1876, and had finished it by August 3.Darwin, Charles, 1809-1882
The powerful effects of Lyells works could formerly be plainly seen in the different progress of the science in France and England. The present total oblivion of Elie de Beaumonts wild hypotheses, such as his Craters of Elevation and Lines of Elevation (which latter hypothesis I heard Sedgwick at the Geological Society lauding to the skies), may be largely attributed to Lyell.
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I saw a good deal of Robert Brown, facile Princeps Botanicorum, as he was called by Humboldt. He seemed to me to be chiey remarkable for the minuteness of his observations, and their perfect accuracy. His knowledge was extraordinarily great, and much died with him, owing to his excessive fear of ever making a mistake. He poured out his knowledge to me in the most unreserved manner, yet was strangely jealous on some points. I called on him two or three times before the voyage of the Beagle, and on one occasion he asked me to look through a microscope and describe what I saw. This I did, and believe now that it was the marvellous currents of protoplasm in some vegetable cell. I then asked him what I had seen; but he answered me, That is my little secret.
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He was capable of the most generous actions. When old, much out of health, and quite unt for any exertion, he daily visited (as Hooker told me) an old man-servant, who lived at a distance (and whom he supported), and read aloud to him. This is enough to make up for any degree of scientic penuriousness or jealousy. I may here mention a few other eminent men, whom I have occasionally seen, but I have little to say about them worth saying. I felt a high reverence for Sir J. Herschel, and was delighted to dine with him at his charming house at the Cape of Good Hope, and afterwards at his London house. I saw him, also, on a few other occasions. He never talked much, but every word which he uttered was worth listening to.
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I once met at breakfast at Sir R. Murchisons house the illustrious Humboldt, who honoured me by expressing a wish to see me. I was a little disappointed with the great man, but my anticipations probably were too high. I can remember nothing distinctly about our interview, except that Humboldt was very cheerful and talked much.
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