A Voyage around Charles Darwin's Head

Something a little bit different for today's post. In honor of the big Darwin year celebrations, I offer a wee bit of a tale.

A Voyage around Charles Darwin's Head
- a short story by M. Johnson

One day a flea set out to explore the world. It planned to make a trip around the world, and then write up a report on its travels. It then hoped to publish this report for the benefit of one and all, and for the general progress of the world. That it wasn't the world it proceeded to explore, was hardly its fault, nor something for which we can blame it. It was, after all, only a flea. (Whether our hero was truly a flea, or some other insect, I can't tell, as my sources are of several minds on the subject. One source is rather insistent that it was a tick.)

And so, with considerable fanfare (even if all this was hard to hear for anyone with the human realm) the flea set out. Being an optimistic sort it planned to complete its journey in any where from three to five years. [We of course speak in flea years.] Leaving the great port city of his birth (not knowing this was, in another realm, known as a human ear) it set out with high hopes. Being young, it was sure it could conquer all obstacles, that nothing would prevent it from its success in this endeavor. (How blind we can be when young; but how blessed this naivete sometimes is.)

The flea, being ignorant of important events happening in the human realm, of which we'll say more shortly, went about his journey with a dogged determination. At the end of one year (after adventures too numerous to mention here) was, it calculated, a quarter of the way to its goal. In its travels it came to a wide and generous plain; there is rested a few days to gather its strength, and to recuperate from months of hard labor, as it made its way through dense forest. (It had reached the back of the neck, in other words.)

It was well pleased with its progress, and not knowing of what problems would soon begin to crop up, it perhaps wasted more time than it should have daudling about in this pleasant country. But at last, having rested and brought its journal up to date, it set out once more.

****

In the human realm things were not going nearly as smoothly. Because of all the hard thinking he'd been doing (ever since the days of the Beagle; the ship, not the dog) the head of Charles Darwin had been expanding. In fact the first thing his father had said to him upon his return to the pleasant fields and counties of the olde england was, ''my Charles, but how your head has grown.'' Most of us perhaps might have been offended by such a remark (at least those of us not dependent upon a family allowance) but Charles was delighted by the remark. Though his sisters, delicately claimed not to have noticed, Charles was certain his father was right. (Had the man ever been wrong?)

This was but the beginning of his troubles, as no sooner had he set the rump down in the easy chair he at once set to work on completing and publishing his journal. After this he set about compiling the notes for his great book. All this took its toll, as it involved many hours a day of strenous thinking; not the normal kind of thinking most of us do (when for example deciding what horse to bet on, or what stock to buy) but the kind of thinking that really (and I mean really) stretches the mind. Really serious thinking causes the brain, and indeed the entire skull, to grow at quite an alarming rate. Fortunately most of us are incapable of such intense and concentrated thinking. Looking back on his life, scholars are fairly well agreed that during the peak years of his career, his head was expanding at a couple inches a year.

In addition to all the stress of reading books and going to parties, Charles decided that it was necessary to get married. Being a very clever fellow he decided it would be wise to marry into money. (And where would we all be now if he hadn't?) This being accomplished (in an a thoroughly efficient and scientific manner) he set about having as many children as possible. His family you see, would be the workers in his great project; and his home would become his laboratory.

Year after year Charles worked hard on his theory, imaging the book he would one day write. Year after year his head continued to grow. Although he was aware of what was causing this growth, Charles refused to stop thinking deeply about the issues of biology and origins. If he had to sacrifice his life to the cause of science he was willing to do so. Soon he had to be fitted with a neck brace to keep his head upright, and to prevent it from falling to one side. (He'd taken several nasty spills on this account.) The size of his head made him reluctant to leave the family home and to visit. Though he was secretly proud of having the largest head in England, he was shy about drawing the stares and comments of outsiders.

****

The flea (you haven't forgotten our hero have you?) continued on in its journey; making copious notes of strange new things it encountered. (Unfortunately because of circumstances we will relate, this never amounted to a book, so I can't refer you to it.) It figured it would reach the half way point in its round the world journey in a year, but this turned out to be optimistic. It in fact took over 18 months to reach the halfway point, to get to the great western port. This struck the fleas as being odd, but it could find no reason for the greater time spent on this, the seconde quarter of the journey.

It had originally planned on taking a break of several weeks at this point in the journey, but now decided to cut this down to several days. It spent an enjoyable few days punting around in the canals of the great port city. (Unfortunately the name of the city has been lost.) Having refreshed itself, as well as it could in so brief a time, it heroically started out again. The next leg of the journey might well be the toughest. Reports told him of great mountains, canyons, gullies, valleys, erupting volcanoes, perilous cliffs, great dangers of all kinds. But being brave it didn't let these things dissuade it. It was ready to sacrifice itself for a noble cause if need be.

The journey soon began to get difficult, more difficult than it had imagined. Not one to complain, the flea carried on, with a resolute spirit most of us can only dream about. Progress seemed almost impossible at times, and several times the flea had to abandon its chosen route, and to backtrack and try another. In the end it took over two years to reach the grand summit of the three quarters mark. As it stood on this lofty peak, the highest in the realm, and looked out over the horizons, it felt proud of its accomplishments. It had been over four years since it had set out, but at this point the flea still had confidence it would complete its journey. (If it had known its sad fate it perhaps would have jumped from that great height, but ignorance saved it from such a rash event.)

****

Meanwhile, back at the Darwin home things were not going well at all. (And it pains me to write of these sad events.) Charles's head had now grown to such an extent that family members were required to hold it up for him whenever he walked about. (And eventually even when he sat down to write) Two of the children would follow him everywhere, one on each side of him, with a hand pressed against the head to keep it on the perpendicular. (And being good Darwins they never did complain, or so we're told in his autobiography.) It was now about 12 inches bigger than any head in the entire empire. (If one can rely on government statistics.)

His good wife (Emma) entreated him (this being something Victorian women did) to stop his studies. "For goodness sake Charles, take some time off to let your fevered brow cool. The doctor says this will allow your head to shrink back to more normal size." Though he loved his wife dearly, Charles rejected this advice. His wife had no true love of science. Good woman that she was, she placed some values higher than that of the progress of science. No, he wouldn't stop his deep thinking. He had work to do. He would not stop until the great Book was published. (Would that we all had such fortitude and dedication.)

Then, the great Book was published, and as every school child knows, the world has never been the same. (It wouldn't have been the same in any event, but let's not quibble.) At this point family and friends expected Charles to take things easy, to allow his brain time for cooling. His theory was all the rage, and they thought he'd now retire from his labors. (Didn't Hercules himself retire from his labors?) But though he took a day or two off (I think it was two) Charles went almost immediately back to the hard work of serious thinking. And of course his head (instead of shrinking as many had hoped) continued to expand. This causing all sorts of problems for our hero in another realm. (And you think your life is complicated, due to the web of influences you find yourself in.)

In due time Charles was forced to take to his bed, only briefly leaving it for the rest of his life. His head was so big (and so heavy) that a special bed had to be purchased and brought (secretly) to the estate. It had been specially made, with iron reinforcements in the frame. Of course all this caused quite an upset for the sensitive members of the Darwin home. But in spite of all this, they tried to be strong, and at least his daugher Henriette tried to take a positive view of things.

One day when some of the family were gathered around Charles as he lay in bed, she tried to comfort her mother by taking a positive view of things.

"Mama, I know you don't like to hear this, but surely this proves that papa's theory is correct. I think we're seeing proof of evolution right before us, and that papa is going to be the link to the next species to emerge.''

This hit some kind of a raw nerve with Emma, and she broke into tears. (What woman wants to hear that her husband is becoming some kind of new species, after all?)

Charles, ever the gallant one (even in times like this) tried to comfort his wife. "Don't worry dear, I knew I was right all along. I don't blame you for doubting, but you can't deny it any longer can you?"

This didn't please Emma for some reason. "Oh where's that Laudanum bottle of yours, I need to calm my nerves. What will the neighbors think when they see you? We'll be ruined. And what will I do if this begins to happen to the children. Oh sometimes I wish you'd drowned at sea...."

This was one of the very few moments of pique the woman ever had, and so we can forgive her for her rather unkind words. (Would any of us have stood up any better under the strain she was surely going through?)

Charles's head was now nearly thirty six inches across (from ear tip to ear tip) and still growing. But still the man wouldn't stop his deep and severe thinking. When told (by both doctors and friends) to stop, he would reply that there were still problems with his theory that he needed to address. He couldn't rest as long as anyone was out there bringing criticisms of his theory. No, he just wouldn't do it. His health meant nothing compared to the success of his theory. The health of his theory was what he was concerned with, not with trivialities like his own personal health. (Like a mother he suckled and nurtured his theory in the face of a hostile world.)

****

The flea wasn't doing well itself. (How little we know about realms other than our own; where no doubt things momentous happen all the time, and completely without our knowing.) It had taken a bad fall on its descent from the peak where last we left it. (It couldn't wait around for us to get back could it?) It had suffered some injuries that left it far from mobile for a few weeks; badly spraining an ankle, and receiving a gash to the upper body. When once it started out again, it could seem to make no progress, as the ground seemed to expand beneath it as it walked.

Month after month our hero labored on, but at last began to tire. It had now been over a year since he'd left the great Peak, but he could still see it behind him, seemingly as close as it had been six months ago. Its pace began to slow, and a kind of depression began to set in when it appeared the goal of the journey would not be met. There was still no sign of the great home port from which he'd left. He couldn't get any reports of it, or how far away it was. The territory it was sludging through seemed almost barren. It didn't want to believe it, but it knew it was getting old and wouldn't have long left. Seeing no hope of getting home before it died it sat down to complete its journal. (True scientist to the end.)

****

Back on the Darwin estate things were just as bad or worse. Since Charles refused to stop his deep thinking his head had continued to grow. It was now so massive it couldn't be lifted, and it was all he could do to move it slightly from side to side. In the end this kind of thing is fatal of course, and one day dear Charles breathed his last. Though family members were afraid the great head would continue to grow even after his death, it doesn't appear to have done so. (I discount reports it grew another 2 inches.)

As every school child knows Charles was buried in some famous church in London. What they probably don't know, is that only the body was buried. The head itself was considered far too large to fit into any kind of decent looking coffin, and so had to be left behind. (It was buried somewhere on the estate.)

****

And as our second story ended, so does our first. What had begun with such great hopes, ended in sadness and failure. (We can't all acheive great fame can we?) There was no fanfare, in fact there was no recognition at all. The flea died all alone on some barren plain. Forces beyond its control, had determined its fate. The worst thing of all (when looked at from one vantate point) is that it never did have any idea what had happened to it, had no idea of what intervening events had caused its failure. That it would have succeeded under normal circumstances can't honestly be denied by anyone. A better, more resourceful, determined, courageous explorer there never was.

If things had been different, it would have ended up a famous individual, and a great hero. Its notes would have become a famous book in that humble realm. But alas, it was not meant to be. The influences between realms is a little understood subject even today; and it was understood far less in that time. All we have are rather vague and unproven theories; theories that are little more than speculation. Maybe in time we'll come to understand these things better. Charles believe that we would, and coming from a head that large, what reason do we have to doubt him.

The End

Notes;
1. A Voyage around Charles Darwin's head - a short story by M. Johnson [All movie rights reserved]