In acknowledgment of the universal accomplishments of Charles Robert Darwin, his noble face is printed on side ten pound note crumpled in wallets country-wide. And yet, his violent achievements in the field of science shed always deemed him the track of philosophy and traditional aesthetics. Contrary to this popular assumption, The Origin of Species is not only a colourfully and intimately written book, with poetic flashes of aroma and an intelligent elbow room; it is a philosophy. As a re-evaluation of temper and mans place within, it not only tracks the past, the present, and how we should understand them, but looks to the futurity confidently, in the direction his theory dictates. At first glace, love affair seems the direct opposite to Darwinism, the Romantic conceition and veneration of nature, created by God and presided over by humans, seems utterly irreconcilable with the endurance of the fittest concept attributed (though this simplification was not Darwins words) to Darwinism. But this is a misconception by those who have not read, or have misunderstood, The Origin of Species. I conceptualize Darwin has, here, created a kind of neo-Romanticism based on reason and scientific understanding rather than religion, art and imagination.
The Origin of Species is written autobiographically, a frank introduction initiates a very personal, insightful style based on feelings, sensations, experience and logic.
Lacking the scientific ordinance of genetics to back his theory, the book concentrates on his experiences of nature, and details the deductions he made from the lengthy period where he was researching, outside in nature. In this approach, he is not too far outside from the Romantics. Nevertheless, the basic conclusions he draws are exceedingly different. The theory of survival of the fittest regards nature as a chaotic battle-zone, fighting and struggling, finale and cruelty, striving and strife. It includes notions...
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