‘In the beginning was the Word…and the Word was God’. These words—taken out of their theological context—epitomize a common attitude among historians during most of Western history. By definition, there was no history before the advent of writing. Truly, for history, ‘in the beginning was the Word’ and, for nearly six millenia for the historian, ‘the Word was God’. As a consequence, words have dominated both the content and the form of historical works, including documentary editions. The close historical identity between reality and the mind and between ideas and words has reinforced the focus on words. There remain today philosophers who argue that thinking can only occur with words. It is not surprising, then, that a verbal conception of documents continues to dominate historical documentary editing. A few years ago, a famous American historian and documentary editor sought to convince me that documents were by definition, verbal.

Two analogies are at the foundation of editions of writings of scientists, technologists and physicians. Both are exemplified in the collection of ‘works’, texts of printed finished versions of contributions. The literary analogy is that of authorship, of the creation of a significant assemblage of words and other symbols. Assemblages of monographs and articles of a scientist are functionally no different than comparable arrays of the writings of theologians, philosophers, poets, novelists and historians.

Letter writing played an especially important role in Charles Darwin's scientific career. Like all scientists, he often needed to communicate with his colleagues, but Darwin's needs were unusual. In the first place, he lived for only short periods in centres where conversation with other scientists was possible. During his student days in Edinburgh and Cambridge he enjoyed personal contacts with university professors and other naturalists associated with the university communities; however, from 1831–1836 he sailed on the Beagle voyage. After his return he lived in London, the centre of British science, but only until 1842 when, partly due to ill-health, he withdrew to the rural village of Down in nearby Kent where he spent the rest of his life. Darwin was not totally isolated in Down. From time to time friends and colleagues paid visits, often to consult about scientific questions. Furthermore, Darwin travelled to London more frequently than has sometimes been supposed. In addition to occasional lengthier visits recorded in his Diary, he also made one-day trips, carefully recording his expenses in his account book. The record of his account book shows that during the early years in Down, he travelled to London more than a dozen times a year, though as he grew older the number of trips declined. Even during the early years, he still depended on the mail for much of the time to keep him in touch with fellow researchers.