1894.
[The completion early in 1894 of the ninth volume of "Collected Essays"
was followed by a review of them in "Nature" (February 1), from the pen
of Professor Ray Lankester, emphasising the way in which the writer's
personality appears throughout the writing:--
There is probably no lover of apt discourse, of keen criticism, or of
scientific doctrine who will not welcome the issue of Professor
Huxley's "Essays" in the present convenient shape. For my own part, I
know of no writing which by its mere form, even apart from the supreme
interest of the matters with which it mostly deals, gives me so much
pleasure as that of the author of these essays. In his case, more than
that of his contemporaries, it is strictly true that the style is the
man. Some authors we may admire for the consummate skill with which
they transfer to the reader their thought without allowing him, even
for a moment, to be conscious of their personality. In Professor
Huxley's work, on the other hand, we never miss his fascinating
presence; now he is gravely shaking his head, now compressing the lips
with emphasis, and from time to time, with a quiet twinkle of the eye,
making unexpected apologies or protesting that he is of a modest and
peace-loving nature. At the same time, one becomes accustomed to a rare
and delightful phenomenon. Everything which has entered the author's
brain by eye or ear, whether of recondite philosophy, biological fact,
or political programme, comes out again to us--clarified, sifted,
arranged, and vivified by its passage through the logical machine of
his strong individuality.
Of the artist in him it continues:--
He deals with form not only as a mechanical engineer in partibus
(Huxley's own description of himself), but also as an artist, a born
lover of forms, a character which others recognise in him though he
does not himself set it down in his analysis.
The essay on "Animal Automatism" suggested a reminiscence of Professor
Lankester's as to the way in which it was delivered, and this in turn
led to Huxley's own account of the incident in the letter given in
volume 2.
About the same time there is a letter acknowledging Mr. Bateson's book
"On Variation", which is interesting as touching on the latter-day
habit of speculation apart from fact which had begun to prevail in
biology:--]
Hodeslea, February 20, 1894.
My dear Mr. Bateson,
I have put off thanking you for the volume "On Variation" which you
have been so good as to send me in the hope that I should be able to
look into it before doing so.
But as I find that impossible, beyond a hasty glance, at present, I
must content myself with saying how glad I am to see from that glance
that we are getting back from the region of speculation into that of
fact again.
There have been threatenings of late that the field of battle of
Evolution was being transferred to Nephelococcygia.
I see you are inclined to advocate the possibility of considerable
"saltus" on the part of Dame Nature in her variations. I always took
the same view, much to Mr. Darwin's disgust, and we used often to
debate it.
If you should come across my article in the "Westminster" (1860) you
will find a paragraph on that question near the end. I am writing to
Macmillan to send you the volume.
Yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
By the way, have you ever considered this point, that the variations of
which breeders avail themselves are exactly those which occur when the
previously wild stocks are subjected to exactly the same conditions?
[The rest of the first half of the year is not eventful. As
illustrating the sort of communications which constantly came to him, I
quote from a letter to Sir J. Donnelly, of January 11:--]
I had a letter from a fellow yesterday morning who must be a lunatic,
to the effect that he had been reading my essays, thought I was just
the man to spend a month with, and was coming down by the five o'clock
train, attended by his seven children and his MOTHER-IN-LAW!
Frost being over, there was lots of boiling water ready for him, but he
did not turn up!
Wife and servants expected nothing less than assassination.
[Later he notes with dismay an invitation as a Privy Councillor to a
State evening party:--]
It is at 10.30 P.M., just the time this poor old septuagenarian goes to
bed!
My swellness is an awful burden, for as it is I am going to dine with
the Prime Minister on Saturday.
[The banquet with the Prime Minister here alluded to was the occasion
of a brief note of apology to Lord Rosebery for having unintentionally
kept him waiting:--]
Hodeslea, Eastbourne, May 28, 1894.
Dear Lord Rosebery,
I had hoped that my difficulties in dealing with an overtight scabbard
stud, as we sat down to dinner on Saturday had inconvenienced no one
but myself, until it flashed across my mind after I had parted from you
that, as you had observed them, it was only too probable that I had the
misfortune to keep you waiting.
I have been in a state of permanent blush ever since, and I feel sure
you will forgive me for troubling you with this apology as the only
remedy to which I can look for relief from that unwonted affliction.
I am, dear Lord Rosebery, yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
[All through the spring he had been busy completing the chapter on Sir
Richard Owen's work, which he had been asked to write by the biographer
of his old opponent, and on February 4 tells Sir J.D. Hooker:--]
I am toiling over my chapter about Owen, and I believe his ghost in
Hades is grinning over my difficulties.
The thing that strikes me most is, how he and I and all the things we
fought about belong to antiquity.
It is almost impertinent to trouble the modern world with such
antiquarian business.
[He sent the manuscript to Sir M. Foster on June 16; the book itself
appeared in December. The chapter in question was restricted to a
review of the immense amount of work, most valuable on its positive
side, done by Owen (compare the letter of January 18, 1893.); and the
review in "Nature" remarks of it that the criticism is "so
straightforward, searching, and honest as to leave nothing further to
be desired."
Besides this piece of work, he had written early in the year a few
lines on the general character of the nineteenth century, in reply to a
request, addressed to "the most illustrious children of the century,"
for their opinion as to what name will be given to it by an impartial
posterity--the century of Comte, of Darwin or Renan, of Edison,
Pasteur, or Gladstone. He replied:--]
I conceive that the leading characteristic of the nineteenth century
has been the rapid growth of the scientific spirit, the consequent
application of scientific methods of investigation to all the problems
with which the human mind is occupied, and the correlative rejection of
traditional beliefs which have proved their incompetence to bear such
investigation.
The activity of the scientific spirit has been manifested in every
region of speculation and of practice.
Many of the eminent men you mention have been its effective organs in
their several departments.
But the selection of any one of these, whatever his merits, as an
adequate representative of the power and majesty of the scientific
spirit of the age would be a grievous mistake.
Science reckons many prophets, but there is not even a promise of a
Messiah.
[The unexampled increase in the expenditure of the European states upon
their armaments led the Arbitration Alliance this year to issue a
memorial urging the Government to co-operate with other Governments in
reducing naval and military burdens. Huxley was asked to sign this
memorial, and replied to the secretary as follows:--]
Hodeslea, Eastbourne, June 21, 1894.
Dear Sir,
I have taken some time to consider the memorial to which you have
called my attention, and I regret that I do not find myself able to
sign it.
Not that I have the slightest doubt about the magnitude of the evils
which accrue from the steady increase of European armaments; but
because I think that this regrettable fact is merely the superficial
expression of social forces, the operation of which cannot be sensibly
affected by agreements between Governments.
In my opinion it is a delusion to attribute the growth of armaments to
the "exactions of militarism." The "exactions of industrialism,"
generated by international commercial competition, may, I believe,
claim a much larger share in prompting that growth. Add to this the
French thirst for revenge, the most just determination of the German
and Italian peoples to assert their national unity; the Russian
Panslavonic fanaticism and desire for free access to the western seas;
the Papacy steadily fishing in the troubled waters for the means of
recovering its lost (I hope for ever lost) temporal possessions and
spiritual supremacy; the "sick man," kept alive only because each of
his doctors is afraid of the other becoming his heir.
When I think of the intensity of the perturbing agencies which arise
out of these and other conditions of modern European society, I confess
that the attempt to counteract them by asking Governments to agree to a
maximum military expenditure, does not appear to me to be worth making;
indeed I think it might do harm by leading people to suppose that the
desires of Governments are the chief agents in determining whether
peace or war shall obtain in Europe.
I am, yours faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
[Later in the year, on August 8, took place the meeting of the British
Association at Oxford, noteworthy for the presidential address
delivered by Lord Salisbury, Chancellor of the University, in which the
doctrine of evolution was "enunciated as a matter of course--disputed
by no reasonable man,"--although accompanied by a description of the
working of natural selection and variation which appeared to the man of
science a mere travesty of these doctrines.
Huxley had been persuaded to attend this meeting, the more willingly,
perhaps, since his reception at Oxford the year before suggested that
there would be a special piquancy in the contrast between this and the
last meeting of the Association at Oxford in 1860. He was not
disappointed. Details apart, the cardinal situation was reversed. The
genius of the place had indeed altered. The representatives of the
party, whose prophet had once contemptuously come here to anathematise
the "Origin", returned at length to the same spot to admit--if not
altogether ungrudgingly--the greatness of the work accomplished by
Darwin.
Once under promise to go, he could not escape without the "few words"
which he now found so tiring; but he took the part which assured him
greatest freedom, as seconder of the vote of thanks to the president
for his address. The study of an advance copy of the address raised an]
"almost overwhelming temptation" [to criticise certain statements
contained in it; but this would have been out of place in seconding a
vote of thanks; and resisting the temptation, he only] "conveyed
criticism," [as he writes to Professor Lewis Campbell], "in the form of
praise": [going so far as to suggest] "it might be that, in listening
to the deeply interesting address of the President, a thought had
occasionally entered his mind how rich and profitable might be the
discussion of that paper in Section D" (Biology). [It was not exactly
an offhand speech. Writing to Sir M. Foster for any good report which
might appear in an Oxford paper, he says:--]
I have no notes of it. I wrote something on Tuesday night, but this
draft is no good, as it was metamorphosed two or three times over on
Wednesday.
[One who was present and aware of the whole situation once described
how he marked the eyes of another interested member of the audience,
who knew that Huxley was to speak, but not what he meant to say,
turning anxiously whenever the president reached a critical phrase in
the address, to see how he would take it. But the expression of his
face told nothing; only those who knew him well could infer a
suppressed impatience from a little twitching of his foot.
Of this occasion Professor Henry F. Osborn, one of his old pupils,
writes in his "Memorial Tribute to Thomas H. Huxley" ("Transactions of
the N.Y. Acad. Society" volume 15):--
Huxley's last public appearance was at the meeting of the British
Association at Oxford. He had been very urgently invited to attend,
for, exactly a quarter of a century before, the Association had met at
Oxford, and Huxley had had his famous encounter with Bishop
Wilberforce. It was felt that the anniversary would be an historic one,
and incomplete without his presence, and so it proved to be. Huxley's
especial duty was to second the vote of thanks for the Marquis of
Salisbury's address--one of the invariable formalities of the opening
meetings of the Association. The meeting proved to be the greatest one
in the history of the Association. The Sheldonian Theatre was packed
with one of the most distinguished scientific audiences ever brought
together, and the address of the Marquis was worthy of the occasion.
The whole tenor of it was the unknown in science. Passing from the
unsolved problems of astronomy, chemistry, and physics, he came to
biology. With delicate irony he spoke of the] "COMFORTING WORD,
EVOLUTION," [and passing to the Weismannian controversy, implied that
the diametrically opposed views so frequently expressed nowadays threw
the whole process of evolution into doubt. It was only too evident that
the Marquis himself found no comfort in evolution, and even entertained
a suspicion as to its probability. It was well worth the whole journey
to Oxford to watch Huxley during this portion of the address. In his
red doctor-of-laws gown, placed upon his shoulders by the very body of
men who had once referred to him as "a Mr. Huxley" (This phrase was
actually used by the "Times".), he sank deeper into his chair upon the
very front of the platform and restlessly tapped his foot. His
situation was an unenviable one. He had to thank an ex-Prime Minister
of England and present Chancellor of Oxford University for an address,
the sentiments of which were directly against those he himself had been
maintaining for twenty-five years. He said afterwards that when the
proofs of the Marquis's address were put into his hands the day before,
he realised that he had before him a most delicate and difficult task.
Lord Kelvin (Sir William Thomson) one of the most distinguished living
physicists, first moved the vote of thanks, but his reception was
nothing to the tremendous applause which greeted Huxley in the heart of
that University whose cardinal principles he had so long been opposing.
Considerable anxiety had been felt by his friends lest his voice should
fail to fill the theatre, for it had signally failed during his Romanes
Lecture delivered in Oxford the year before, but when Huxley arose he
reminded you of a venerable gladiator returning to the arena after
years of absence. He raised his figure and his voice to its full
height, and, with one foot turned over the edge of the step, veiled an
unmistakable and vigorous protest in the most gracious and dignified
speech of thanks.
Throughout the subsequent special sessions of this meeting Huxley could
not appear. He gave the impression of being aged but not infirm, and no
one realised that he had spoken his last word as champion of the law of
evolution. (See, however, below.)
Such criticism of the address as he actually expressed reappears in the
leading article, "Past and Present," which he wrote for "Nature" to
celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of its foundation (November 1,
1894).
The essence of the criticism is that with whatever demonstrations of
hostility to parts of the Darwinian theory Lord Salisbury covered the
retreat of his party from their ancient positions, he admitted the
validity of the main points for which Darwin contended.]
The essence of this great work (the "Origin of Species") may be stated
summarily thus: it affirms the mutability of species and the descent of
living forms, separated by differences of more than varietal value,
from one stock. That is to say, it propounds the doctrine of evolution
as far as biology is concerned. So far, we have merely a restatement of
a doctrine which, in its most general form, is as old as scientific
speculation. So far, we have the two theses which were declared to be
scientifically absurd and theologically damnable by the Bishop of
Oxford in
1860.
It is also of these two fundamental doctrines that, at the meeting of
the British Association in 1894, the Chancellor of the University of
Oxford spoke as follows:--
"Another lasting and unquestioned effect has resulted from Darwin's
work. He has, as a matter of fact, disposed of the doctrine of the
immutability of species..."
"Few now are found to doubt that animals separated by differences far
exceeding those that distinguished what we know as species have yet
descended from common ancestors."
Undoubtedly, every one conversant with the state of biological science
is aware that general opinion has long had good reason for making the
volte face thus indicated. It is also mere justice to Darwin to say
that this "lasting and unquestioned" revolution is, in a very real
sense, his work. And yet it is also true that, if all the conceptions
promulgated in the "Origin of Species" which are peculiarly Darwinian
were swept away, the theory of the evolution of animals and plants
would not be in the slightest degree shaken.
[The strain of this single effort was considerable] "I am frightfully
tired," [he wrote on August 11,] "but the game was worth the candle."
[Letters to Sir J.D. Hooker and to Professor Lewis Campbell contain his
own account of the affair. The reference in the latter to the priests
is in reply to Professor Campbell's story of one of Jowett's last
sayings. They had been talking of the collective power of the
priesthood to resist the introduction of new ideas; a long pause
ensued, and the old man seemed to have slipped off into a doze, when he
suddenly broke the silence by saying,] "The priests will always be too
many for you."
The Spa, Tunbridge Wells, August 12, 1894.
My dear Hooker,
I wish, as everybody wished, you had been with us on Wednesday evening
at Oxford when we settled accounts for 1860, and got a receipt in full
from the Chancellor of the University, President of the Association,
and representative of ecclesiastical conservatism and orthodoxy.
I was officially asked to second the vote of thanks for the address,
and got a copy of it the night before--luckily--for it was a kittle
business...
It was very queer to sit there and hear the doctrines you and I were
damned for advocating thirty-four years ago at Oxford, enunciated as
matters of course--disputed by no reasonable man!--in the Sheldonian
Theatre by the Chancellor...
Of course there is not much left of me, and it will take a fortnight's
quiet at Eastbourne (whither we return on Tuesday next) to get right.
But it was a pleasant last flare-up in the socket!
With our love to you both.
Ever yours affectionately,
T.H. Huxley.
Hodeslea, August 18, 1894.
My dear Campbell,
I am setting you a good example. You and I are really too old friends
to go on wasting ink in honorary prefixes.
I had a very difficult task at Oxford. The old Adam, of course,
prompted the tearing of the address to pieces, which would have been a
very easy job, especially the latter half of it. But as that procedure
would not have harmonised well with the function of a seconder of a
vote of thanks, and as, moreover, Lord S. was very just and good in his
expressions about Darwin, I had to convey criticism in the shape of
praise.
It was very curious to me to sit there and hear the Chancellor of the
University accept, as a matter of course, the doctrines for which the
Bishop of Oxford coarsely anathematised us thirty-four years earlier. E
pur si muove!
I am not afraid of the priests in the long-run. Scientific method is
the white ant which will slowly but surely destroy their
fortifications. And the importance of scientific method in modern
practical life--always growing and increasing--is the guarantee for the
gradual emancipation of the ignorant upper and lower classes, the
former of whom especially are the strength of the priests.
My wife had a very bad attack of her old enemy some weeks ago, and she
thought she would not be able to go to Oxford. However, she picked up
in the wonderfully elastic way she has, and I believe was less done-up
than I when we left on the Friday morning. I was glad the wife was
there, as the meeting gave me a very kind reception, and it was
probably the last flare-up in the socket.
The Warden of Merton took great care of us, but it was sad to think of
the vacuity of Balliol.
Please remember me very kindly to Father Steffens and the Steeles, and
will you tell Herr Walther we are only waiting for a balloon to visit
the hotel again?
With our affectionate regards to Mrs. Campbell and yourself.
Ever yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
[Here also belong several letters of miscellaneous interest. One is to
Mrs. Lewis Campbell at the Maloja.]
Hodeslea, August 20, 1894.
My dear Mrs. Campbell,
What a pity I am not a telepath! I might have answered your inquiry in
the letter I was writing to your husband yesterday.
The flower I found on the island in Sils Lake was a cross between
Gentiana lutea and Gentiana punctata--nothing new, but interesting in
many ways as a natural hybrid.
As to baptizing the island, I am not guilty of usurping ecclesiastical
functions to that extent. I have a notion that the island has a name
already, but I cannot recollect it. Walther would know.
My wife had a bad attack, and we were obliged to give up some visits we
had projected. But she got well enough to go to Oxford with me for a
couple of days, and really stood the racket better than I did.
At present she is fairly well, and I hope the enemy may give her a long
respite. The Colliers come to us at the end of this month, and that
will do her good.
With our affectionate regards to you both and remembrances to our
friends.
Ever yours very truly,
T.H. Huxley.
[The first of the following set refers to a lively piece of nonsense
which Huxley wrote just before going to stay with the Romanes' at
Oxford on the occasion of the Romanes Lecture. (See above.) After
Professor Romanes' death, Mrs. Romanes asked leave to print it in the
biography of her husband. In the other letters, Huxley gives his
consent, but, with his usual care for the less experienced, tried to
prevent any malicious perversion of the fun which might put her in a
false position.]
To Mrs. Romanes.
Hodeslea, September 20, 1894.
I do not think I can possibly have any objection to your using my
letter if you think it worth while--but perhaps you had better let me
look at it, for I remember nothing about it--and my letters to people
whom I trust are sometimes more plain-spoken than polite about things
and men. You know at first there was some talk of my possibly supplying
Gladstone's place in case of his failure, and I would not be sure of my
politeness in that quarter!
Pray do not suppose that your former letter was other than deeply
interesting and touching to me. I had more than half a mind to reply to
it, but hesitated with a man's horror of touching a wound he cannot
heal.
And then I got a bad bout of "liver," from which I am just picking up.
Hodeslea, September 22, 1894.
It's rather a rollicking epistle, I must say, but as my wife (who sends
her love) says she thinks she is the only person who has a right to
complain (and she does not), I do not know why it should not be
published.
P.S.--I fancy very few people will catch the allusion about not
contradicting me. But perhaps it would be better to take the opinion of
some impartial judge on that point.
I do not care the least on my own account, but I see my words might be
twisted into meaning that you had told me something about your previous
guest, and that I referred to what you had said.
Of course you had done nothing of the kind, but as a wary old fox,
experienced sufferer from the dodges of the misrepresenter, I feel
bound not to let you get into any trouble if I can help it.
A regular lady's P.S. this.
P.S.--Letter returned herewith.
To Mr. Leslie Stephen.
Hodeslea, October 16, 1894.
My dear Stephen,
I am very glad you like to have my omnium gatherum, and think the
better of it for gaining me such a pleasant letter of acknowledgment.
It is a great loss to me to be cut off from all my old friends, but
sticking closely to my hermitage, with fresh air and immense quantities
of rest, have become the conditions of existence for me, and one must
put up with them.
I have not paid all the debt incurred in my Oxford escapade yet--the
last "little bill" being a sharp attack of lumbago, out of which I hope
I have now emerged. But my deafness alone should bar me from decent
society. I have not the moral courage to avoid making shots at what
people say, so as not to bore them; and the results are sometimes
disastrous.
I don't see there is any real difference between us. You are charitable
enough to overlook the general immorality of the cosmos on the score of
its having begotten morality in one small part of its domain.
Ever yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
To Mr. G-- S--. [See above.]
Hodeslea, October 31, 1894.
Dear Mr. S--,
"Liver," "lumbago," and other small ills the flesh is heir to, have
been making me very lazy lately, especially about letter-writing.
You have got into the depths where the comprehensible ends in the
incomprehensible--where the symbols which may be used with confidence
so far begin to get shaky.
It does not seem to me absolutely necessary that matter should be
composed of solid particles. The "atoms" may be persistent whirlpools
of a continuous "substance"--which substance, if at rest, could not
affect us (all sensory impression being dependent on motion) and
subsequently would FOR US = 0. The evolution of matter would be the
getting under weigh of this "nothing for us" until it became the
"something for us," the different motions of which give us the mental
states we call the qualities of things.
But it needs a very steady head to walk safely among these abysses of
thought, and the only use of letting the mind range among them is as a
corrective to the hasty dogmatism of the so-called materialists, who
talk just as glibly of that of which they know nothing as the most
bigoted of the orthodox.
[Here also stand two letters to Lord Farrer, one before, the other
after, his address at the Statistical Society on the Relations between
Morals, Economics and Statistics, which touch on several philosophical
and social questions, always, to his mind, intimately connected, and
wherein wrong modes of thought indubitably lead to wrong modes of
action. Noteworthy is a defence of the fundamental method of Political
Economy, however much its limitations might be forgotten by some of its
exponents. The reference to the Church agitation to introduce dogmatic
teaching into the elementary schools has also a lasting interest.]
Hodeslea, November 6, 1894.
My dear Farrer,
Whenever you get over the optimism of your youthful constitution (I
wish I were endowed with that blessing) you will see that the Gospels
and I are right about the Devil being "Prince" (note the
distinction--not "king") of the Cosmos.
The a priori road to scientific, political, and all other doctrine is
H.R.H. Satan's invention--it is the intellectual, broad, and easy path
which leadeth to Jehannum.
The king's road is the strait path of painful observation and
experiment, and few they be that enter thereon.
R.G. Latham, queerest of men, had singular flashes of insight now and
then. Forty years ago he gravely told me that the existence of the
Established Church was to his mind one of the best evidences of the
recency of the evolution of the human type from the simian.
How much there is to confirm this view in present public opinion and
the intellectual character of those who influence it!
It explains all your difficulties at once, and I regret that I do not
seem to have mentioned it at any of those mid-day symposia which were
so pleasant when you and I were younger.
Ever yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
P.S.--Apropos of Athelstan Riley and his friends--I fool rather obliged
to them. I assented to the compromise (1) because I felt that English
opinion would not let us have the education of the masses at any
cheaper price; (2) because, with the Bible in lay hands, I was
satisfied that the teaching from it would gradually become modified
into harmony with common sense.
I do not doubt that this is exactly what has happened, and is the
ground of the alarm of the orthodox.
But I do not repent of the compromise in the least. Twenty years of
reasonably good primary education is "worth a mass."
Moreover the Diggleites stand to lose anyhow, and they will lose most
completely and finally if they win at the elections this month. So I am
rather inclined to hope they may.
Hodeslea, Staveley Road, Eastbourne, November 3, 1894.
My dear Mr. Clodd,
They say that the first thing an Englishman does when he is hard up for
money is to abstain from buying books. The first thing I do when I am
liver-y, lumbagy, and generally short of energy, is to abstain from
answering letters. And I am only just emerging from a good many weeks
of that sort of flabbiness and poverty.
Many thanks for your notice of Kidd's book. Some vile punsters called
it an attempt to put a Kid glove on the iron hand of Nature. I thought
it (I mean the book, not the pun) clever from a literary point of view,
and worthless from any other. You will see that I have been giving Lord
Salisbury a Roland for his Oliver in "Nature". But, as hinted, if we
only had been in Section D!
With my wife's and my kind regards and remembrances.
Ever yours very truly,
T.H. Huxley.
Athenaeum Club, December 19, 1894.
My dear Farrer,
I am indebted to you for giving the recording angel less trouble than
he might otherwise have had, on account of the worse than usual
unpunctuality of the London and Brighton this morning. For I have
utilised the extra time in reading and thinking over your very
interesting address.
Thanks for your protest against the mischievous a priori method, which
people will not understand is as gross an anachronism in social matters
as it would be in Hydrostatics. The so-called "Sociology" is
honeycombed with it, and it is hard to say who are worse, the
individualists or the collectivists. But in your just wrath don't
forget that there is such a thing as a science of social life, for
which, if the term had not been so hopelessly degraded, Politics is the
proper name.
Men are beings of a certain constitution, who, under certain
conditions, will as surely tend to act in certain ways as stones will
tend to fall if you leave them unsupported. The laws of their nature
are as invariable as the laws of gravitation, only the applications to
particular cases offer worse problems than the case of the three bodies.
The Political Economists have gone the right way to work--the way that
the physical philosopher follows in all complex affairs--by tracing out
the effects of one great cause of human action, the desire of wealth,
supposing it to be unchecked.
If they, or other people, have forgotten that there are other potent
causes of action which may interfere with this, it is no fault of
scientific method but only their own stupidity.
Hydrostatics is not a "dismal science," because water does not always
seek the lowest level--e.g. from a bottle turned upside down, if there
is a cork in the neck!
There is much need that somebody should do for what is vaguely called
"Ethics" just what the Political Economists have done. Settle the
question of what will be done under the unchecked action of certain
motives, and leave the problem of "ought" for subsequent consideration.
For, whatever they ought to do, it is quite certain the majority of men
will act as if the attainment of certain positive and negative
pleasures were the end of action.
We want a science of "Eubiotics" to tell us exactly what will happen if
human beings are exclusively actuated by the desire of well-being in
the ordinary sense. Of course the utilitarians have laid the
foundations of such a science, with the result that the nicknamer of
genius called this branch of science "pig philosophy," making just the
same blunder as when he called political economy "dismal science."
"Moderate well-being" may be no more the worthiest end of life than
wealth. But if it is the best to be had in this queer world--it may be
worth trying for.
But you will begin to wish the train had been PUNCTUAL!
Draw comfort from the fact that if error is always with us, it is, at
any rate, remediable. I am more hopeful than when I was young. Perhaps
life (like matrimony, as some say) should begin with a little aversion!
Ever yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
[Some years before this, a fund for a "Darwin Medal" had been
established in memory of the great naturalist, the medal to be awarded
biennially for researches in biology. With singular appropriateness,
the first award was made to Dr. A.R. Wallace, the joint propounder of
the theory of Natural Selection, whose paper, entrusted to Darwin's
literary sponsorship, caused the speedy publication of Darwin's own
long-continued researches and speculations. The second, with equal
appropriateness, was to Sir J.D. Hooker, both as a leader in science
and a helper and adviser of Darwin.
Huxley's own view of such scientific honours as medals and diplomas was
that they should be employed to stimulate for the future rather than to
reward for the past; and delighted as he was at the poetic justice of
these two awards, this justice once satisfied, he let his opinion be
known that thenceforward the Darwin Medal ought to be given only to
younger men. But when this year he found the Darwin Medal awarded to
himself "for his researches in biology and his long association with
Charles Darwin," he could not but be touched and gratified by this mark
of appreciation from his fellow-workers in science, this association in
one more scientific record with old allies and true friends--to "have
his niche in the Pantheon" next to Hooker and near to Darwin.
It was a rare instance of the fitness of things that the three men who
had done most to develop and to defend Darwin's ideas should live to
stand first in the list of the Darwin medalists; and Huxley felt this
to be a natural closing of a chapter in his life, a fitting occasion on
which to bid farewell to public life in the world of science. Almost at
the same moment another chapter in science reached its completion in
the "coming of age" of "Nature", a journal which, when scientific
interests at large had grown stronger, had succeeded in realising his
own earlier efforts to found a scientific organ, and with which he had
always been closely associated.
As mentioned above, he wrote for the November number an introductory
article called "Past and Present," comparing the state of scientific
thought of the day with that of twenty-five years before, when the
journal was first started. To celebrate the occasion, a dinner was to
be held this same month of all who had been associated with "Nature",
and this Huxley meant to attend, as well as the more important
anniversary dinner of the Royal Society on St. Andrew's Day.]
I have promised [he writes on November 6 to Sir M. Foster] to go to the
"Nature" dinner if I possibly can. Indeed I should be sorry to be away.
As to the Royal Society nothing short of being confined to bed will
stop me. And I shall be good for a few words after dinner.
Thereafter I hope not to appear again on any stage.
[His letter about the medal expresses his feelings as to the award.]
Hodeslea, November 2, 1894.
My dear Foster,
Didn't I tell the P.R.S., Secretaries, Treasurer, and all the Fellows
thereof, when I spoke about Hooker years ago, that thenceforth the
Darwin Medal was to be given to the young, and not to useless old
extinct volcanoes? I ought to be very angry with you all for coolly
ignoring my wise counsels.
But whether it is vanity or something a good deal better, I am not. One
gets chill old age, and it is very pleasant to be warmed up
unexpectedly even against one's injunctions. Moreover, my wife is very
pleased, not to say jubilant; and if I were made Archbishop of
Canterbury I should not be able to convince her that my services to
Theology were hardly of the sort to be rewarded in that fashion.
I need not say what I think about your action in the matter, my
faithful old friend. With our love to you both.
Ever yours,
T.H. Huxley.
I suppose you are all right again, as you write from the R.S. Liver
permitting I shall attend meeting and dinner. It is very odd that the
Medal should come along with my pronouncement in "Nature", which I hope
you like. I cut out rather a stinging paragraph at the end.
Hodeslea, Eastbourne, November 11, 1894.
My dear Donnelly,
Why on earth did I not answer your letter before? Echo (being Irish)
says, "Because of your infernal bad habit of putting off; which is
growing upon you, you wretched old man."
Of course I shall be very glad if anything can be done for S--. Howes
has written to me about him since your letter arrived--and I am
positively going to answer his epistle. It's Sunday morning, and I feel
good.
You will have seen that the R.S. has been giving me the Darwin Medal,
though I gave as broad a hint as was proper the last time I spoke at
the Anniversary, that it ought to go to the young men. Nevertheless,
with ordinary inconsistency of the so-called "rational animal," I am
well pleased.
I hope you will be at the dinner, and would ask you to be my guest--but
as I thought my boys and boys-in-law would like to be there, I have
already exceeded my lawful powers of invitation, and had to get a
dispensation from Michael Foster.
I suppose I shall be like a horse that "stands at livery" for some time
after--but it is positively my last appearance on any stage.
We were very glad to hear from Lady Donnelly that you had had a good
and effectual holiday. With
our love.
Ever yours,
T.H. Huxley.
I return Howes' letter in case you want it. I see I need not write to
him again after all. Three cheers!
Please give Lady Donnelly this. A number of estimable members of her
sex have flown at me for writing what I thought was a highly
complimentary letter. But SHE will be just, I know.
"The best of women are apt to be a little weak in the great practical
arts of give-and-take, and putting up with a beating, and a little too
strong in their belief in the efficacy of government. Men learn about
these things in the ordinary course of their business; women have no
chance in home life, and the boards and councils will be capital
schools for them. Again, in the public interest it will be well; women
are more naturally economical than men, and have none of our false
shame about looking after pence. Moreover, they don't job for any but
their lovers, husbands, and children, so that we know the worst."
[The speech at the Royal Society Anniversary dinner--which he evidently
enjoyed making--was a fine piece of speaking, and quite carried away
the audience, whether in the gentle depreciation of his services to
science, or in his profession of faith in the methods of science and
the final triumph of the doctrine of evolution, whatever theories of
its operation might be adopted or discarded in the course of further
investigation.
I quote from the "Times" report of the speech:--]
But the most difficult task that remains is that which concerns myself.
It is 43 years ago this day since the Royal Society did me the honour
to award me a Royal medal, and thereby determined my career. But,
having long retired into the position of a veteran, I confess that I
was extremely astonished--I honestly also say that I was extremely
pleased to receive the announcement that you had been good enough to
award to me the Darwin Medal. But you know the Royal Society, like all
things in this world, is subject to criticism. I confess that with the
ingrained instincts of an old official that which arose in my mind
after the reception of the information that I had been thus
distinguished was to start an inquiry which I suppose suggests itself
to every old official--How can my Government be justified? In
reflecting upon what had been my own share in what are now very largely
ancient transactions, it was perfectly obvious to me that I had no such
claims as those of Mr. Wallace. It was perfectly clear to me that I had
no such claims as those of my lifelong friend Sir Joseph Hooker, who
for 25 years placed all his great sources of knowledge, his sagacity,
his industry, at the disposition of his friend Darwin. And really, I
begin to despair of what possible answer could be given to the critics
whom the Royal Society, meeting as it does on November 30, has lately
been very apt to hear about on December 1. Naturally there occurred to
my mind that famous and comfortable line, which I suppose has helped so
many people under like circumstances, "They also serve who only stand
and wait." I am bound to confess that the standing and waiting, so far
as I am concerned, to which I refer, has been of a somewhat peculiar
character. I can only explain it, if you will permit me to narrate a
story which came to me in my old nautical days, and which, I believe,
has just as much foundation as a good deal of other information which I
derived at the same period from the same source. There was a merchant
ship in which a member of the Society of Friends had taken passage, and
that ship was attacked by a pirate, and the captain thereupon put into
the hands of the member of the Society of Friends a pike, and desired
him to take part in the subsequent action, to which, as you may
imagine, the reply was that he would do nothing of the kind; but he
said that he had no objection to stand and wait at the gangway. He did
stand and wait with the pike in his hands, and when the pirates mounted
and showed themselves coming on board he thrust his pike with the sharp
end forward into the persons who were mounting, and he said, "Friend,
keep on board thine own ship." It is in that sense that I venture to
interpret the principle of standing and waiting to which I have
referred. I was convinced as firmly as I have ever been convinced of
anything in my life, that the "Origin of Species" was a ship laden with
a cargo of rich value, and which, if she were permitted to pursue her
course, would reach a veritable scientific Golconda, and I thought it
my duty, however naturally averse I might be to fighting, to bid those
who would disturb her beneficent operations to keep on board their own
ship. If it has pleased the Royal Society to recognise such poor
services as I may have rendered in that capacity, I am very glad,
because I am as much convinced now as I was 34 years ago that the
theory propounded by Mr. Darwin--I mean that which he propounded, not
that which has been reported to be his by too many ill-instructed, both
friends and foes--has never yet been shown to be inconsistent with any
positive observations, and if I may use a phrase which I know has been
objected to, and which I use in a totally different sense from that in
which it was first proposed by its first propounder, I do believe that
on all grounds of pure science it "holds the field," as the only
hypothesis at present before us which has a sound scientific
foundation. It is quite possible that you will apply to me the remark
that has often been applied to persons in such a position as mine, that
we are apt to exaggerate the importance of that to which our lives have
been more or less devoted. But I am sincerely of opinion that the views
which were propounded by Mr. Darwin 34 years ago may be understood
hereafter as constituting an epoch in the intellectual history of the
human race. They will modify the whole system of our thought and
opinion, our most intimate convictions. But I do not know, I do not
think anybody knows, whether the particular views which he held will be
hereafter fortified by the experience of the ages which come after us;
but of this thing I am perfectly certain, that the present course of
things has resulted from the feeling of the smaller men who have
followed him that they are incompetent to bend the bow of Ulysses, and
in consequence many of them are seeking their salvation in mere
speculation. Those who wish to attain to some clear and definite
solution of the great problems which Mr. Darwin was the first person to
set before us in later times must base themselves upon the facts which
are stated in his great work, and, still more, must pursue their
inquiries by the methods of which he was so brilliant an exemplar
throughout the whole of his life. You must have his sagacity, his
untiring search after the knowledge of fact, his readiness always to
give up a preconceived opinion to that which was demonstrably true,
before you can hope to carry his doctrines to their ultimate issue; and
whether the particular form in which he has put them before us may be
such as is finally destined to survive or not is more, I venture to
think, than anybody is capable at this present moment of saying. But
this one thing is perfectly certain--that it is only by pursuing his
methods, by that wonderful single-mindedness, devotion to truth,
readiness to sacrifice all things for the advance of definite
knowledge, that we can hope to come any nearer than we are at present
to the truths which he struggled to attain.
To Sir J.D. Hooker.
Hodeslea, Eastbourne, December 4, 1894.
My dear old Man,
See the respect I have for your six years' seniority! I wished you had
been at the dinner, but was glad you were not. Especially as next
morning there was a beastly fog, out of which I bolted home as fast as
possible.
I shall have to give up these escapades. They knock me up for a week
afterwards. And really it is a pity, just as I have got over my horror
of public speaking, and find it very amusing. But I suppose I should
gravitate into a bore as old fellows do, and so it is as well I am kept
out of temptation.
I will try to remember what I said at the "Nature" dinner. I scolded
the young fellows pretty sharply for their slovenly writing. [A brief
report of this speech is to be found in the "British Medical Journal"
for December 8, 1894, page 1262.]
There will be a tenth volume of Essays some day, and an Index rerum. Do
you remember how you scolded me for being too speculative in my maiden
lecture on Animal Individuality forty odd years ago? "On revient
toujours," or, to put it another way, "The dog returns to his etc. etc."
So I am deep in philosophy, grovelling through Diogenes
Laertius--Plutarch's "Placita" and sich--and often wondering whether
the schoolmasters have any better ground for maintaining that Greek is
a finer language than English than the fact that they can't write the
latter dialect.
So far as I can see, my faculties are as good (including memory for
anything that is not useful) as they were fifty years ago, but I can't
work long hours, or live out of fresh air. Three days of London bowls
me over.
I expect you are in much the same case. But you seem to be able to
stoop over specimens in a way impossible to me. It is that incapacity
has made me give up dissection and microscopic work. I do a lot on my
back, and I can tell you that the latter posture is an immense economy
of strength. Indeed, when my heart was troublesome, I used to spend my
time either in active outdoor exercise or horizontally.
The Stracheys were here the other day, and it was a great pleasure to
us to see them. I think he has had a very close shave with that
accident. There is nobody whom I should more delight to honour--a right
good man all round--but I am not competent to judge of his work. You
are, and I do not see why you should not suggest it. I would give him a
medal for being R. Strachey, but probably the Council would make
difficulties.
By the way, do you see the "Times" has practically climbed down about
the Royal Society--came down backwards like a bear, growling all the
time? I don't think we shall have any more first of December criticisms.
Lord help you through all this screed. With our love to you both.
Ever yours affectionately,
T.H. Huxley.
Abram, Abraham became
By will divine;
Let pickled Brian's name
Be changed to Brine!
"Poetae Minores".
Poor Brian.--Brutal jest!
[(Sir Joseph's son, Brian, had fallen into a pan of brine.)
The following was written to a friend who had alluded to his painful
recollection of a former occasion when he was Huxley's guest at the
anniversary dinner of the Royal Society, and was hastily summoned from
it to find his wife dying.]
I fully understand your feeling about the R.S. Dinner. I have not
forgotten the occasion when you were my guest: still less my brief
sight of you when I called the next day.
These things are the "lachrymae rerum"--the abysmal griefs hidden under
the current of daily life, and seemingly forgotten, till now and then
they come up to the surface--a flash of agony--like the fish that jumps
in a calm pool.
One has one's groan and goes to work again.
If I knew of anything else for it, I would tell you; but all my
experience ends in the questionable thanksgiving, "It's lucky it's no
worse."
With which bit of practical philosophy, and our love, believe me, ever
yours affectionately,
T.H. Huxley.
[Before speaking of his last piece of work, in the vain endeavour to
complete which he exposed himself to his old enemy, influenza, I shall
give several letters of miscellaneous interest.
The first is in reply to Lord Farrer's inquiry as to where he could
obtain a fuller account of the subject tersely discussed in the chapter
he had contributed to the "Life of Owen". ("Which," wrote Lord Farrer,
"is just what I wanted as an outline of the Biological and
Morphological discussion of the last 100 years. But it is 'Pemmican' to
an aged and enfeebled digestion. Is there such a thing as a diluted
solution of it in the shape of any readable book?")]
Hodeslea, January 26, 1895.
My dear Farrer,
Miserable me! Having addressed myself to clear off a heap of letters
that have been accumulating, I find I have not answered an inquiry of
yours of nearly a month's standing. I am sorry to say that I cannot
tell you of any book (readable or otherwise) that will convert my
"pemmican" into decent broth for you.
There are histories of zoology and of philosophical anatomy, but they
all of them seem to me to miss the point (which you have picked out of
the pemmican). Indeed, that is just why I took such a lot of pains over
these 50 or 60 pages. And I am immensely tickled by the fact that among
all the critical notices I have seen, not a soul sees what I have been
driving at as you have done. I really wish you would write a notice of
it, just to show these Gigadibses (vide Right Reverend Blougram) what
blind buzzards they are! [See Browning's "Bishop Blougram's
Apology":--"Gigadibs the literary man" with his
Abstract intellectual plan of life
Quite irrespective of life's plainest laws.]
Enter a maid. "Please sir, Mrs. Huxley says she would be glad if you
would go out in the sun." "All right, Allen." Anecdote for your next
essay on Government!
The fact is, I have been knocked up ever since Tuesday, when our
University Deputation came off; and my good wife (who is laid up
herself) suspects me (not without reason) of failing to take advantage
of a gleam of sunshine.
By the way, can you help us over the University business? Lord Rosebery
is favourable, and there is absolutely nobody on the other side except
sundry Philistines, who, having got their degrees, are desirous of
inflating their market value.
Yours very truly,
T.H. Huxley.
[The next is in answer to an appeal for a subscription, from the Church
Army.]
January 26, 1895.
I regret that I am unable to contribute to the funds of the Church Army.
I hold it to be my duty to do what I can for the cases of distress of
which I have direct knowledge; and I am glad to be able now and then to
give timely aid to the industrious and worthy people with whom, as a
householder, I am brought into personal relation; and who are so often
engaged in a noiseless and unpitied but earnest struggle to do well.
In my judgment, a domestic servant, who is perhaps giving half her
wages to support her old parents, is more worthy of help than
half-a-dozen Magdalens.
Under these circumstances, you will understand that such funds as are
at my disposal are already fully engaged.
[The following is to a gentleman--an American, I think--who sent him a
long manuscript, an extraordinary farrago of nonsense, to read and
criticise, and help to publish. But as he seemed to have acted in sheer
simplicity, he got an answer:--]
Hodeslea, January 31, 1895.
Dear Sir,
I should have been glad if you had taken the ordinary, and, I think,
convenient course of writing for my permission before you sent the
essay which has reached me, and which I return by this post. I should
then have had the opportunity of telling you that I do not undertake to
read, or take any charge of such matters, and we should both have been
spared some trouble.
I the more regret this, since being unwilling to return your work
without examination, I have looked at it, and feel bound to give you
the following piece of advice, which I fear may be distasteful, as good
counsel generally is.
Lock up your essay. For two years--if possible, three--read no popular
expositions of science, but devote yourself to a course of sound
PRACTICAL instruction in elementary physics, chemistry, and biology.
Then re-read your essay; do with it as you think best; and, if
possible, regard a little more kindly than you are likely to do at
present, yours faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
[The following passage from a letter to Sir J.D. Hooker refers to a
striking discovery made by Dubois:--]
Hodeslea, Eastbourne, February 14, 1895.
The Dutchmen seem to have turned up something like the "missing link"
in Java, according to a paper I have just received from Marsh. I expect
he was a Socratic party, with his hair rather low down on his forehead
and warty cheeks.
Pithecanthropus erectus Dubois (fossil)
rather Aino-ish about the body, small in the calf, and cheese-cutting
in the shins. Le voici!