How Famous and Respected Was Wallace?

How Famous and Respected was Wallace? By Alan Leyin (Thurrock Local History Society, Grays, Essex, UK), May 2014 Having read George Beccaloni’s posting (Wallace Memorial Fund News blog, 25/4/2014) on Darwin historian John van Wyhe’s assertion that it is incorrect to describe Wallace to have been ‘… among the most famous Victorian scientists during his lifetime’, and that he never approached anything like the level of ‘fame or respect’ of many of his contemporaries, I had the urge to rush to my keyboard. Not having access to Charles Smith’s latest article on the subject (The Linnean, 2014, 30(1)), to which is referred, nor being able to match Smith’s commanding knowledge, I make a couple of observations (some also made elsewhere, on earlier postings) from the point of view of a non-specialist. Being quite different concepts, there is limited value in addressing issues of ‘fame or respect’ as if both were synonymous: one can, of course, accrue respect without being famous; or, indeed, become famous for being notoriously disrespected. To focus first on ‘fame’: The Order of Merit is awarded to those considered by the reigning monarch to have contributed exceptionally meritorious service in the forces or toward the advancement of Art, Literature and Science. The award is not always a reliable indicator of achievement or fame however, as it may only be conferred upon 24 living individuals at any one time. So, whatever, one’s earthly achievements, if these coincide with longevity of existing members, fate cruelly intervenes to block that particular path to recognition – irrespective of one’s prominence. But, if conferred, the award does provide an indisputable record of the member’s contemporaneous status. As examples, in 1907, the award was accepted by Florence Nightingale, and Sir Joseph Dalton Hooker – the latter being one Victorian scientist whose fame, John van Wyhe suggests, Wallace’s did not match. Whatever the current assertions about the fame the respective scientists, they pale into insignificance – as The Order of Merit was awarded to Wallace, the following year. Against such public recognition, the question of who was more famous than whom, seems quite unnecessary. On Wednesday 26th April 1882, a host of the nation’s worthies and international dignitaries gathered at Westminster Abbey to pay their final respects to Charles Darwin. Among those invited were the eminent scientists of the day; all of whom would have watched the pall-bearers – three members of which had been drawn from their own distinguished circle – carry the unpolished oak coffin from its temporary sanctum in the Chapter House to its place in front of the Communion rails of the Abbey. To the sound of The Psalms being chanted to Purcell's music, the pall-bearers, having conducted their solemn duty, lowered their heads in respect before turning to take their place among the mourners. Two of those carrying the coffin were Joseph Hooker and Thomas Henry Huxley – both being among those those who John van Wyhe suggests Wallace’s fame did not match – a third was Alfred Russel Wallace. Again, among such stellar company, any attempt to measure relative fame seems trivial. To focus on ‘respect’: Hooker’s remark to Darwin that ‘Wallace has lost caste terribly’ (Hooker to Darwin, 18.12.1879), suggests that such a case can be made. By delving into Spiritualism and other matters, Wallace lost the scientific respect of some of his contemporaries. However, to judge someone’s scientific work on the basis of their spiritual beliefs would be as misguided as it would be unfair (one only has to cite Newton, to quash that argument). However, if Wallace had lost some respect over his non-scientific activities, there were others who lost the scientific respect of their peers for their views on scientific matters: a much more serious loss of status. Ironically, one such contemporary of Wallace, who had ‘lost caste’ because of his scientific views was Richard Owen – another eminent Victorian against whom John van Wyhe pitches Wallace, unfavourably. On Owen’s death, The Times (1892) reported: ‘A celebrated skirmish at a meeting of the British Association is still well remembered by those who it concerned, and OWEN’S name in connexion with it has never been kindly thought of by the dominant school … OWEN, in the last quarter of his life, was out of favour with many of his scientific brethren.’ The Times column provides contemporaneous evidence that it was Owen that had lost the respect of many of his peers, not Wallace. ‘Respect’ may, of course, be afforded to a person for more than their scientific achievement; it may also be earned through a person’s character and behaviour. It is here where Wallace’s nature shines through. Darwin’s respect for Wallace’s character was undoubtedly heartfelt and genuine: ‘You cannot tell how much I admire your spirit, in the manner in which you have taken all that was done about establishing our papers.’ (Darwin to Wallace 6.04.1859). This was in marked contrast to Darwin’s ‘… burning with indignation’ (Darwin to Hooker, 3.01.1863) over Owen’s lamentable treatment of many of his scientific peers. Darwin, for one, had little respect for Owen’s conduct; or indeed the side of Owen’s character to which he had been exposed; of which he wrote: ‘It is painful to be hated in the intense degree with which Owen hates me.’ (Darwin to Charles Lyell 10.04.1860). Even on death – an occasion on which public criticism is usually restrained – The Times alluded to Owen’s character: ‘It is enough to say here that he never cordially accepted the Darwinian theory and was never cordial to Mr. Darwin and the Darwinians’ (The Times, 1892). It was not just the theory over which the scientist took umbrage; for Owen it was personal; extending, indeed, to Darwin’s coadjutors. No doubt influenced by an amalgam of psychological poisons – related to fame, respect and personal ambition – when asked by the British Museum’s influential Trustee, Spencer Horatio Walpole, for a view on giving Darwin the posthumous honour of having a statue placed in the museum, Owen did not openly embrace the idea, but expertly avoided voicing his support by suggesting that the matter was simply ‘… a question of “Administration.”’ (Owen, 1882; in Padian, 2001). On the day of Darwin’s funeral, The Times’ Editorial ran: ‘Had DARWIN died when the attacks upon him were fiercest, his mourners would yet not have had to lament that enmity and anger …’ (The Times, 1882b); a reminder of how slippery are the concepts of fame and respect. Whilst undoubtedly having been one of the most lauded scientists of the Victorian era, with the arrival of Darwin and Wallace’ theory, Owen’s reputation rapidly tarnished. After being publically accused by TH Huxley of being ‘guilty of wilful and deliberate falsehood’ (Cadbury, 2000), for Owen, there was no return. In contrast, the respect that was afforded to Wallace, simply grew; and captured by Sir Charles Sherrington, President of The Royal Society, on the unveiling the portrait of Wallace at the British Museum (Natural History) in 1923. In his address, Sherrington opined that the image, ‘… represents a noble trait of character as well as genius, which went together in the personality of Alfred Russel Wallace.’ (The Times, 1923). A sentiment that has echoed throughout the century, with Sir David Attenborough – another member of The Order of Merit – offering a respectful nod to Wallace: ‘For me there is no more admirable character in the history of science.’ (Attenborough, 2011). Returning to the honours awarded for scientific achievements – and respective levels of fame and respect. Those still wishing to pursue that particular thread might note that in 1890 the Royal Society first awarded its newly-struck Darwin Medal for ‘work of acknowledged distinction in the broad area of biology in which Charles Darwin worked, notably in evolution, population biology, organismal biology and biological diversity’. Joseph Dalton Hooker received the award in 1892; followed by TH Huxley being similarly honoured in 1894. The medal’s first recipient was Alfred Russel Wallace. And, in a switch-about regarding who might have been more famous that whom, in 1908 – on the 50th anniversary of the joint reading of Wallace and Darwin’s original papers at the Linnean Society of London – Joseph Dalton Hooker graciously accepted the Darwin-Wallace Medal. References Attenborough D (2011) New Life Stories. Wallace. London: Harper Collins Publishers. p69–77 Cadbury D (2000) The Dinosaur Hunters. London: Fourth Estate. Owen, R (1882) Letter to Spencer Horatio Walpole. 5 November. In Padian K (2001) Owen’s Parthian Shot. Nature, vol 412 12 July 123–124. The Times (1882) The Funeral Of Mr. Darwin. 27 April 27 April p5. The Times (1882b) Editorial: When a celebrated Englishman dies. 26 April p11. The Times (1892) Sir Richard Owen. 19 December; p9 The Times (1913) Death of Dr Russel Wallace. A veteran of science. 8 November; p9. Obituary notices published shortly after Wallace’s his death have been collated by Charles Smith: http://people.wku.edu/charles.smith/wallace/obits.htm .

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