A summary of our content so far, Wordle-style!
This month is LGBT History Month, an annual event which celebrates the lives of the LGBT community both past and present. The event helps draw attention to the ongoing work of organisations like Schools Out, which encourage teachers to give lessons on ‘significant’ gay people like Alan Turing, the forefather of modern computing whose work as a Cryptanalyst helped to defeat Nazi Germany. Alternatively, teachers might opt to take Science lessons based on research which shows that homosexual behaviour typically occurs in hundreds of species of animals. 
Any Science teachers who try to draw on Darwin’s work in this context will be rather disappointed with what they find. Despite dedicating his life to the observation of the natural world, no reports of homosexual behaviour appear ever to have been made by Darwin. This is surprising given that recent academic research shows overwhelmingly that “nearly all species” of animals exhibit some degree of homosexual behaviour both in the wild and in captivity.
Expert observations of Rhesus monkeys’ behaviour, for example – behaviour which Darwin studied very closely – has shown conclusively that both male and female members of the species demonstrate homosexual as well as heterosexual behaviour over the course of their lives. Thus, according to Professor Paul Vasey, same-sex Rhesus monkeys are typically “affectionate to each other, touching, holding and embracing” one another.
Darwin’s observations of Rhesus monkey behaviour were decidedly more hetero-normative, focussing exclusively on interactions between the sexes at the expense of interactions within single-sex pairings. As an animal of “the order to which man belongs“, Rhesus monkey courtship behaviour appeared to Darwin as identical to the human equivalent – a heterosexual, male-driven process in which “ornamental” females were selected according to their perceived physical attractiveness.
So why did Darwin and his contemporaries fail to observe the homosexual behaviour which naturally occurs in species like the Rhesus monkey? Part of the answer undoubtedly lies in Victorian Britain’s narrow definition of sexuality. While during the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries sexual acts between people of the same sex were deemed “part and parcel of ‘normal’ sexual behaviour”, over the course of the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries “natural” sexuality became more narrowly defined as productive, marital and thus heterosexual.
As a man who dedicated his life to analysing the selective forces which influenced the evolutionary process – from the weather, to geography, to physical strength and aesthetic adornments – one would expect Darwin to have taken a keen interest in the potentially critical evolutionary consequences of same-sex behaviour in animals and humans alike. In neither his public work nor private letters, however, did he describe sexuality as anything other than a heterosexual/reproductive phenomenon; “Sexuality”, he told Charles Lyell in 1861, should be defined as the uniting of “two elements” which “go to form the new being“.
In a world where homosexual behaviour was increasingly labelled “unnatural”, it might have been the case that Darwin simply did not see homosexual behaviour in the natural world – that he was somehow culturally blinded to its existence in nature. Alternatively, it might have been the case that as an aspiring respectable man of science whose work was considered by many to tread a fine line between “real” scientific endeavour and “indecent aestheticism”, Darwin lacked the freedom to observe, discuss and thus “naturalise” types of behaviour which had the potential to offend and alienate his middle-class audience.
While Darwin’s work does little to help teachers convey the complexity of human sexuality to their students, it nonetheless provides an extremely rich insight into the relationship between science and culture. Contrary to what we tend to be taught at school, it is impossible for even the most dedicated and “detached” of scientists to offer insights that are entirely objective and wholly a-political. In looking at Darwin’s work both as a piece of science and as a product of culture, students can learn valuable lessons about the subjectivity of what we “know” and about the ways and means by which heterosexuality has been constructed as the norm from which other sorts of sexuality diverge.
 For discussions of homosexual behaviour in the animal kingdom see Volker Sommer & Paul L. Vasey, Homosexual Behaviour in Animals, An Evolutionary Perspective, (Cambridge University Press, 2006), Bruce Bagemihl, Biological Exuberance: Animal Homosexuality and Natural Diversity, (London, 1999) and Frans De Waal & Frans Lanting, Bonobo: The Forgotten Ape, (California, 1998).
 There is a single reference to homosexual behaviour in animals in a rather distressing letter written to Darwin by Robert Swinhoe in 1865. Interestingly, in the letter Swinhoe interprets a violent dog fight as motivated by an innate homophobic instinct. There is no reply from Darwin that we know of, but it is significant that the issue of homosexuality does not feature in any of his discussions of dog behaviour in Variation, Descent or Expression.
 Sommer & Vasey, Homosexual Behaviour in Animals, (Cambridge University Press, 2006).
 See T. Hitchcock, ‘The Development of Sexuality’, English Sexualities 1700 – 1800, (London, 1997), p. 65. Generally speaking, while in the earlier period masculinity was measured by the quantity of sex a man had, by the early nineteenth century it was increasingly measured by its (heterosexual) quality.
 For a discussion of the cultural pressures under which Darwin laboured see G. Dawson, Darwin, Literature and Victorian Respectability,(Cambridge, 2007), introduction.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Alan Turing, Animal homosexuality, Bruce Bagemihl, Darwin, Frans de Waal, Frans Lanting, History of sexuality, LGBT History Month, Paul Vasey, Rhesus monkey, Schools Out, Sexuality, Victorian sexuality, Volker Sommer | 3 Comments »
On September 4th 1850, Charles Darwin penned a letter to his cousin and friend William Darwin Fox in which he reported that he and Emma were “at present very full of the subject of schools”. As a middle class family, the Darwins had a number of options to choose from: they could follow in Fox’s footsteps and home school their sons, they could send their boys to a grammar school, or they could opt to educate them at public school where they would receive a classical education centered around the study of Latin and Greek.
Charles clearly had considerable reservations about the latter option; “I cannot endure to think of sending my Boys to waste 7 or 8 years in making miserable Latin verses,” he told told Fox. In a later, more candid exchange Darwin declared that, “No one can more truly despise the old stereotyped stupid classical education than I do.”
Why did Darwin object so vehemently to classical education? According to Charles, a classical education had a “contracting effect” on young boys’ minds; it entailed “no exercise of the observing or reasoning faculties,—no general knowledge acquired.” It was, he said, “a wretched system”. Darwin’s preference seems to have been for the more diverse and skills-focussed education offered by grammar schools; “we have heard some good of Bruce Castle School, near Tottenham“, he told Fox in 1850, “which is partly [based] on the Fellenberg System”. 
Despite his reservations, however, in 1852 Charles reluctantly reported that his son, William, had embarked on a classical education; “I have not had courage,” Darwin confessed to Fox, “to break through the trammels. After many doubts we have just sent our eldest Boy to Rugby”.
Why such an orthodox move from a man considered to be something of a maverick? The answer most likely lies in prevailing middle class gender ideology. A classical education may have lacked diversity and the opportunity for creativity, but it provided access to an exclusive middle class masculine world. As Anthony Fletcher has shown, Latin was “the male elite’s secret language, a language all of its own, a language that that could be displayed as a mark of learning, superiority, of class and gender difference.” 
Classical education held a practical appeal also; monotonous, solid study in subjects with little intrinsic interest for its students was well-designed to check youthful high spirits and transform boys into studious, dedicated and all-round decent middle class men. As Darwin commented to Fox, “a Boy who has learnt to stick at Latin & conquer its difficulties, ought to be able to stick at any labour.”
Charles might have considered William’s schooling “stupid” and “wretched”, but as a middle class father concerned for his son’s professional future and progression into manhood, a classical education ultimately proved too valuable an opportunity for him to miss.
 The Hill School at Bruce Castle was a relatively radical institution founded by Rowland Hill, a close friend of Thomas Paine, Richard Price and Joseph Priestly. The Fellenberg System prioritised learning through experience, primarily through the study and practice of agriculture.
 Anthony Fletcher, Gender Sex and Subordination, (London, 1995), p. 302.
Those of us who are planning a ‘double dip recession Christmas’ might find frugal inspiration in Emma Darwin’s traditional Victorian fayre. Over the course of her family life Emma Darwin noted down around forty recipes in her personal cookery notebook which she proudly entitled “Mrs. Charles Darwin’s Recipe Book”.
When it came to the Darwins’ family cookbook, the women were very clearly in charge; it was Emma, Henrietta and other female family members who took charge of selecting and noting down a range of recipes, from delicious sounding delights like gingerbread and apple compote to perhaps less palatable concoctions such as skim milk pudding, preserved eggs, turnip cresselly and veal cake.
Charles appears to have contributed to the notebook just once when, in his distinctive hand and with characteristic precision, he noted how to make the perfect boiled rice (which was perhaps served up as an accompaniment to Emma’s chicken curry); “keep it [the rice] boiling for twelve minutes by the watch,” he said, “then pour off the water and set the pot on live coals during ten minutes”.
When Christmas came around, the Darwin family recipe book provided a wealth of seasonal options. Christmas party staples such as cheese straws and gingerbread biscuits were noted, as was festive cured ham, cranberry sauce and – of course – mince pies which, according to Emma’s extremely festive recipe, contained no less than a quarter of a pint of brandy.
Even Emma’s indulgent festive recipes, however, could not draw Charles away from his work. In typical fashion, on Christmas day 1871 he retired from his family Christmas gathering at Down in order to write a letter to Physican and Naturalist William Ogle; “I have read your paper with the greatest possible interest” Charles said, before proceeding to detail observations and notes he had recently made on left and right handedness.
 Cambridge University Library, CUL-DAR214.(0-157).
 For more information see D. Bateson & W. Janeway, Mrs Darwin’s Recipe Book: revived and illustrated (New York, 2008).
As suggested in an earlier blog post, Darwin was something of a reluctant bride groom. His chief concern about getting married and having children centred on the loss of freedom it would entail and, of course, the impact that this would have on his work. For Darwin, becoming a husband and father meant entering a new life that would be marked by anxiety, expense and a severe “loss of time“.
His private correspondence shows that, in some ways at least, Darwin was absolutely correct; he proved to be an anxious husband and father who regularly expressed concern about his wife’s well-being and who was preoccupied throughout much of his life by a concern that his children were blighted by some sort of hereditary weakness. His childrens’ financial and professional prospects also caused him a considerable degree of anxiety.
While Darwin the bachelor might have had a good grasp of the impact that marriage would have on his life, he proved far less insightful about the impact that it would have on his work. Despite his fears, as a husband and father Darwin was able to publish over twenty works including arguably his three most influential publications, On the Origin of Species (1859), The Descent of Man (1871) and The Expression of Emotion (1872).
Contrary to Darwin’s assumptions, becoming a husband and father seems to have helped rather than hindered his research. Even before they were married, it is clear that a loose division of labour existed between Charles and Emma. Thus, by taking chief responsibility for the management of the family and household, Emma left Charles free to dedicate much of his time to observation, experimentation and writing.
Importantly, Emma was not just an efficient housekeeper and mother – she was also a trusted observer who took an active part in Darwin’s research. During the period 1854 – 1856, for example, she closely observed their childrens’ behaviour, making notes which – along with Charles‘ and other contributors‘ observations – culminated in the publication of The Expression of Emotion.
The Darwin children were not just a rich source of information for Charles – like Emma they too were trusted observers, editors and contributors to his work. As discussed in an earlier post, Darwin considered his daughter Henrietta’s editorial input crucial. Even before they were engaged, Charles took the liberty of recruiting his son’s future fiancée (Amy Ruck) to count wormcasts for him in North Wales!
It seems, then, that Charles’ musings about the implications of Victorian marriage were only partially correct. While becoming a husband and father inevitably impacted on his ability to focus exclusively on scientific pursuits, in many ways his marriage can be seen as signalling the start rather than the end of his illustrious career in the natural sciences.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Charles Darwin, Children, Darwin, Emma Darwin, Family Fortunes, Fatherhood, Francis Darwin, Henrietta Darwin, marriage, Masculinity, Victorian Marriage | Leave a Comment »
In an article and book review published in The Guardian in 2003, Richard Dawkins excitedly reported that “an obscure letter in a library” suggested that Charles Darwin was the forefather not only of the theory of evolution but also of modern genetics.
The letter to which he referred was written by Darwin to fellow naturalist Alfred Russel Wallace in February 1866. Bringing to light a little-known yet highly significant discussion of early Pangenesis, Darwin and Wallace’s written exchange is a powerful reminder of the wealth of important information contained within Darwin’s private correspondence. As Dawkins noted, the letter reminds us that Darwin “was not only a deep thinker” but also “a master encyclopaedist” who “collated huge quantities of information from around the world” on a great variety of subjects.
Indeed, Darwin’s private correspondence shows very clearly that he was part of a surprisingly broad network of naturalists on whose expertise he relied very heavily and Dawkins is correct to suggest that Darwin was arguably more of a scientific collaborator than he was a lone hero. There is, however, a glaring error in Dawkins’ portrayal of Darwin’s scientific network: “…each gentleman [was],” Dawkins says, “meticulously acknowledged for having ‘attended to’ the subject”. Darwin was indeed the most polite and conscientious of correspondents, but his scientific network was made up not just of gentlemen like Alfred Russel Wallace but also a large number of women, including Mary Treat, Lydia Becker, Carolina Dodel Port, Mary Barber and Margaretta Hare-Morris to name but a few.
Delving into Darwin’s private correspondence offers great potential for us to better understand both the full breadth of his ideas and the collaborative nature of his work. It will also help to correct the enduring assumption that during the nineteenth century science was a world inhabited exclusively by the so-called “scientific gentleman”.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Alfred Russel Wallace, Carolina Dodel Port, Collaboration, Darwin, Gender, Genetics, Gentlemen, Lydia Becker, Margaretta Hare-Morris, Mary Barber, Mary Treat, Richard Dawkins, Women | 2 Comments »