Galton Institute Home Page December 2003 Newsletter Contents Newsletter Index

FitzRoy, The Remarkable Story of Darwin’s Captain and the Invention of the Weather Forecast. John & Mary Gribbin. Headline Book Publishing 2003, pp. 336, £18.99.

Evolution’s Captain, The Tragic Fate of Robert FitzRoy the Man Who Sailed Charles Darwin Around the World. Peter Nichols. Profile Books Ltd. 2003, pp.336, £16.99.

Whose name replaced that of Finisterre in the sea areas around Britain in 2002? Similarly what was the name of a Tory MP who then became the second governor of New Zealand, only to be recalled mainly for favouring Maori interests rather than those of the colonials? What rear-admiral attempted to speak after T H Huxley’s famous attack upon Bishop Wilberforce during the celebrated British Association meeting of 1860, having earlier expressed the opinion that mastodons possibly became extinct because Noah’s ark doors were too small. Finally, who was in charge of the Royal Navy’s first screw-driven steamship, was the founding father of the Met. Office, and chanced to be the principal companion for Charles Darwin during the Beagle’s five-year circumnavigation?

With the answer to each question being the same – Robert FitzRoy – it is not surprising that two worthy biographies of this man have surfaced during the single year of 2003. It is more surprising that his life is not described in new publications every single year. How extraordinary it is that the sailor who took Darwin around the world, and thereby helped to initiate modern theories of evolution, should then become such a bitter opponent of Darwin’s thinking. As for Darwin he championed his former shipmate, calling him ‘very extraordinary’, with ‘nothing too great or too high for him I never before came across a man I could fancy being a Napoleon or a Nelson.’ Oh for a tape recorder to have been switched on when, after a day among all those finches of the Galapagos, these two individuals then chatted about their various observations.

As a naval officer FitzRoy was naturally interested in weather, particularly what kind lay in store. Once, when anchored lightly off the Magellan Strait, he watched the mercury of his barometer plummet alarmingly. His captain, then sleeping soundly and uncaring about such matters, did not even possess or welcome a barometer. FitzRoy therefore ordered the deployment of two more anchors, but even these dragged when the storm arrived to send the ship ‘within a stone’s throw’ of the rocky shore. All would have been lost had such a forecast not been made, and had action not been taken to counter its virulence.

FitzRoy’s enthusiasm for weather prediction, causing him to favour and promote the science of meteorology, made him prime choice for the task of heading the brand new government department which aimed to collect and distribute weather information. It was then 18 years after the Beagle’s voyage had been completed, and nine after its captain’s unhappy return from New Zealand. The Nelson or Napoleon had therefore not been idle, whereas his naturalist companion on that trip was still five years short of becoming the world-famous evolutionist.

The Times became so enamoured of the nation’s new approach to meteorology that it started publishing weather forecasts. Almost inevitably – as even today – there was much ridicule when the ‘prophecies’ proved erroneous. That newspaper then chose to distance itself from that section of its publication:

While disclaiming all credit for the occasional success, we must however demand to be held free of any responsibility for the too common failures which attend these prognostications.

In June 1864, more conscious of failure than success, it abandoned the enterprise, and FitzRoy was devastated. By then everyone knew of Darwinism, and the man who had taken a companionable naturalist around the world could not accept the novel thinking which arose directly from that voyage. Devastation was therefore complete, and the 59-year-old admiral cut his throat on 30 April 1865, thus emulating his famous uncle, Lord Castlereagh, one-time Foreign Secretary, who had done likewise 43 years earlier.

So what of the two books telling this story? Both have about as many pages, but the Gribbin volume is the more academic. It has named chapters, a list of contents, an index, and several pages of ‘endnotes’ enlightening sections of the text. The Nichols book has none of these things, its author possibly thinking that a man’s life can be read as a story rather than a scholarly and annotated treatise. Peter Nichols, having spent ten years as a yacht captain, was plainly drawn to the Beagle’s lengthy voyage. The Gribbins, authors of many books concerning science in general, were possibly more intrigued by FitzRoy’s links with weather, and their wide-ranging knowledge is most apparent.

I do not intend to give higher marks to one volume over the other as both make for happy reading. Nichols’ book is more lightweight, but none the worse for that. The Gribbins are more earnest which is, by no means, a fault. Some pages of each are nearly identical, as with Mary FitzRoy’s account of her husband’s final days. It is probably wrong to recommend both works equally but both are enjoyable. Together they make it plain that many biographies could have been written of such a neglected man, but at least we are now reminded of him and his wayward up-and-down career whenever the shipping weather forecast of similar highs and lows happens to come our way.

Anthony Smith