Life of a Scotch Naturalist

The history of the humblest human life is a tale of marvels. Dr. Johnson said that there was not a man in the street whose biography might not be made interesting, provided he could narrate something of his experiences of life, his trials, his difficulties, his successes, and his failures.

I use these words as an introduction to the following biography of my “man in the street.” Yet Thomas Edward is not an ordinary man. Eighteen years since, I mentioned him in Self-Help, as one of the most extraordinary instances of perseverance in the cause of science that had ever come under my notice.

Nor was he a man of any exalted position in society. He was a shoemaker then; he is a shoemaker still. For nearly thirty years he has fought the battle of scientific poverty. He was one of those men who lived for science, not by science. His shyness prevented him pushing himself forward; and when he had done his work, he was almost forgotten.

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How he pursued his love of Nature,—how he satisfied his thirst for knowledge, in the midst of trials, difficulties, and troubles,—not the least of which was that of domestic poverty,—will be found related in the following book. Indeed, it may be said of him, that he has endured as much hardship for the cause of science, as soldiers do in a prolonged campaign. He spent most of his nights out of doors, amidst damp, and wet, and cold. Men thought him mad for enduring such risks. He himself says, “I have been a fool to Nature all my life.”

He always lamented his want of books. He had to send his “findings” to other naturalists to be named, and he often lost them. But books could not be had without money; and money was as scarce with him as books. He was thus prevented from taking rank among higher-class naturalists. He could only work in detail; he could not generalise. He had to be satisfied with the consolation that Mr. J. Gwyn Jeffreys once gave him. “Working naturalists like yourself,” said he, “do quite as much good service in the cause of science as those who study books.” Edward, however, doubted this; for he considered works on natural science to be a great help to the working naturalist. They informed him

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 of what others had done, and also of what remained to be done.

Those who would know something of what Edward has accomplished in only one department of his favourite subject, should consult Messrs. Bate and Westwood’s History of the British Sessile-eyed Crustacea, where his services to the cause of science are fully and generously acknowledged. Of the numerous Crustacea mentioned in that work, Edward collected a hundred and seventy-seven in the Moray Firth, of which twenty were New Species.

In 1866, Edward was elected an Associate of the Linnean Society,—one of the highest honours that science could confer upon him. Since then, however, he has been able to do comparatively little for the advancement of his favourite study. He had been so battered about by falling from rocks in search of birds, and so rheumatised by the damp, wet, and cold, to which he was exposed at night,—for he was obliged to carry on his investigations after his day’s work was over,—that he was unable to continue his investigations in Natural History.

In the Appendix will be found a Selection of the Fauna of Banffshire, prepared by Edward. I have been able to find room for only the Mammals, Birds,

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 Fishes, and Crustacea. I wish it had been possible to give the Star-fishes (Rayed Echinodermata), Molluscs, Zoophytes, and other objects; but this would have filled up the book, and left no room for the Biography.

It was not my intention to have published the book in the ornate form in which it now appears. But my friend Mr. Reid,—being greatly interested in the man and his story,—and having volunteered to illustrate the work “for love,” I could not withstand his generous offer. Hence the very fine portrait of Edward, so exquisitely etched by Rajon; and the excellent wood engravings of Whymper and Cooper, which illustrate the volume.

It is scarcely necessary to say that the materials of the book have been obtained from Edward himself, either by written communication or by “word of mouth.” Much of it is autobiography. Edward was alarmed at the idea of what he communicated being “put into a book.” He thought it might do me an injury. “Not a copy,” he said, “would be bought in Banff.”

However this may be, the writing of the Biography has given me much pleasure. It has led me to seek health amidst the invigorating breezes of

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 the North; and to travel round the rugged shores of Aberdeen and Banff, in search of the views of bays and headlands with which Mr. Reid has so beautifully embellished the book.

It may be objected—“Why write the life of a man who is still living?” To this it may be answered, that Edward has lived his life and done his work. With most of us, “Hic jacet” is all that remains to be added. If the book had not been written now, it is probable that it never would have been written. But it may be asked,—“Is the life really worth writing?” To this question the public alone can give the answer.

London, Nov. 1876.