How, he demanded, did I reconcile these ancient
fabulous notions with the doctrine of evolution? What effect had
Darwin produced on me? I had to confess that I had not read a line of
his work, that with the exception of Draper's History of Civilisation,
which had come by chance in my way, I had during all those five years
read nothing but the old books which had always been on our shelves.
He said he knew Draper's History, and it was not the sort of book for
me to read at present. I wanted a different history, with animals as
well as men in it. He had a store of books with him, and would lend me
the Origin of Species to begin with.
When I had read and returned the book, and he was eager to hear my
opinion, I said it had not hurt me in the least, since Darwin had to
my mind only succeeded in disproving his own theory with his argument
from artificial selection. He himself confessed that no new species
had ever been produced in that way.
That, he said in reply, was the easy criticism that any one who came
to the reading in a hostile spirit would make. They would fasten on
that apparently weak point and not pay much attention to the fact that
it is fairly met and answered in the book. When he first read the book
it convinced him; but he had come to it with an open mind and I with a
prejudiced mind on account of my religious ideas. He advised me to
read it again, to read and consider it carefully with the sole purpose
of getting at the truth. "Take it," he said, "and read it again in the
right way for you to read it - as a naturalist."
He had been surprised that I, an ignorant boy or youth on the pampas,
had ventured to criticise such a work. I, on my side, had been equally
surprised at his quiet way of reasoning with me, with none of the old
scornful spirit flaming out. He was gentle with me, knowing that I had
suffered much, and was not free yet.
I read it again in the way he had counselled, and then refused to
think any more on the subject. I was sick of thinking. Like the wretch
who long has tossed upon the thorny bed of pain, I only wanted to
repair my vigour lost and breathe and walk again. To be on horseback,
galloping over the green pampas, in sun and wind. For after all it was
only a reprieve, not a commutation of sentence - though one of a kind
unknown in the Courts, in which the condemned man is allowed out on
bail.
