Looking back on the life of Alfred Russel Wallace in this, the centenary of his birth, it is right to think of him as the last survivor of a band of comrades to whom we owe that growth in evolutionary thought which is probably the chief intellectual characteristic of the nineteenth century. Lyell, inspired by Buckland at Oxford, started the movement in his “Principles of Geology,” of which Darwin said that it altered the whole tone of the reader’s mind, so much so indeed that he felt, when he looked on any new geological feature, that he was seeing it with Lyell's eyes rather than his own. Then, in the onward rush, influencing and being influenced as Lyell was by his disciple, were Hooker, Huxley and Wallace. Nor must mention be omitted of H. W. Bates, whose friendship early in life was the determining cause of Wallace’s journey to the tropics; nor of Herbert Spencer, a great power half a century ago, with his sonorous sentences and sublime infallibility. We remember how Darwin said that to read Spencer always made him feel like a worm, but that he retained the worm’s privilege of wriggling, and at another time, more incisively, “wonderfully clever, and I dare say mostly true.” And the story perhaps invented, but if so well invented, of Spencer’s reply to an argument— “That can’t be true, for otherwise ‘First Principles’ would have to be re-written—
and the edition is stereotyped
.”