1881-1890
LONDON--GEANIES
One may now for a short space turn away from the scientific side of
Mr. Romanes' life and speak a little of other aspects.
No one was ever a more incessant worker and thinker. If he went
away for a short visit, his writing went too; and if in Scotland
wet weather interfered with shooting, he would sit down and write
something, perhaps a poem, perhaps (as he once said playfully when
condoled with on account of heavy rain and absence of books, 'I don't
care, I'll write an essay on the freedom of the will') an article for
a magazine.
A great deal of reviewing, chiefly in 'Nature,' filled up some of his
time, and he also turned his attention more and more to poetry.
In the postscript of a letter written in 1878 to Mr. Darwin he says:
'I am beginning to write poetry!' and poetry interested him more and
more as years went on. Of this, more later.
He much enjoyed society; he ceased to mingle exclusively with
scientific and philosophical people, and as time went on he became
acquainted with many of the notabilities of the day. And, as has been
said, it is impossible perhaps to exaggerate the outward pleasantness
of those years.
He was able to devote himself to his work; he had an ever-increasing
number of devoted friends both of men and women, and he was
intensely happy in his home life.
His children were a great and increasing interest to him, and he was
an ideal father, tender, sympathetic, especially as infancy grew into
childhood. He shared in all his children's interests, and lived with
them on terms of absolute friendship, chaffing and being chaffed,
enjoying an interchange of pet names and jokes, and yet exacting
obedience and gentle manners, and never permitting them as small
children to make themselves troublesome to visitors in any way, or to
chatter freely at meals when guests were present.
He had very strong feelings about the importance of making children
familiar with the Bible. He used to say that as a mere matter of
literary education everyone ought to be familiar with the Bible from
beginning to end. He himself was exceedingly well versed in Holy
Scripture.
He also thought a good classical training very desirable for boys
(and girls also), and had no very great belief in science being
taught to any great extent during a boy's school career. Memory, he
considered, ought to be cultivated in childhood, and he did not think
that the reasoning powers ought to be much taxed in early years. He
used to say that Euclid could be learnt much more easily if it were
begun later in boyhood. He also much wished that foreign languages
should be taught very early in life, and with little or no attention
to grammar.
Perhaps a few words of reminiscence from one of his children may not
be unwelcome.
MEMORIES.--G. J. R.
I remember that when my father was particularly amused at
anything, he used a certain gesture, which, according to the
'Life of Darwin,'[37] must have been precisely similar to that of
Darwin, and was probably unconsciously copied by my father. He
never used the gesture except when very much tickled at hearing
some amusing story; when the climax of the story was reached he
would burst into a peal of hearty laughter, at the same time
bringing his hand heavily but noiselessly down upon his knee or
on the table near him.
When we were at Geanies, our greatest delight was 'to go out
shooting with father.' We used to tramp for hours together over
turnip and grass fields behind my father and the gamekeeper. We
used to enjoy the expeditions so much better if our father was
the only sportsman, for then we had him all to ourselves. We were
very small then; our ages were ten, nine, and six respectively,
but we were good walkers and we never became tired. What little
sunburnt, healthy, grubby children we were to be sure! When
Bango, the setter, pointed at a covey, we all had to stand quite
still while our father walked forward towards the dog. Directly
the covey rose we all 'ducked' for safety. I shall never forget
the joy and pride we felt when a bird fell, and we ran with
shouts of triumph to pick it up. Then the delight of eating lunch
under a hedge or in a wood! That was a time of jokes and fun,
and we talked as freely and unrestrainedly as we liked about all
kinds of subjects. Then came some more tramping in the turnips,
and we would journey homewards, a weary but very happy little
party. The counting of the game would follow, and our pride was
very great when the number of brace was high, for we felt that we
had been helping our father to slay the partridges. In fact, we
thought that Sandy, the gamekeeper, was a very useless personage
when we went out, for did we not mark as well as, or better, than
he did? And surely we could carry the game bags; they were not
very heavy even when they were full to bursting!
There was something very beautiful in the respect and reverence which
George Romanes felt for children and for child-life, and a sonnet 'To
my Children' expresses these feelings:--
'Of all the little ones whom I have known
Ye are so much the fairest in my view--
So much the sweetest and the dearest few--
That not because ye are my very own
Do I behold a wonder that is shown
Of loveliness diversified in you:
It is because each nature as it grew
Surpassed a world of joy already grown.
If months bestow such purpose on the years,
May not the years work out a greater plan?
Vast are the heights which form this 'vale of tears,'
And though what lies beyond we may not scan,
Thence came my little flock--strayed from their spheres,
As lambs of God turned children into man.'
As has been said, for music Mr. Romanes had an absolute passion. A
good concert of chamber or of orchestral music was absolute happiness
to him, and he heard a great deal in these years. One or two of his
friends were excellent musicians. To one of these he once wrote a
sonnet, 'To a Member of the Bach Choir,'[38] and sent it to her in
the form of a Christmas card, producing much pleasant mystification
and laughter when it was discovered from whom the sonnet came.
_To Miss Paget._
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park: December 27, 1887.
Dear Miss Paget,--If my sonnet gave half as much pleasure as
your note, I am sure we have both the best reasons to be glad.
The letter was as much a surprise to me as the former was to
you, because, far from seeing the 'ungraciousness' of yesterday,
even then I thought that my reward was much in excess of my
deserving. But your further response of to-day has given me a
greater happiness than I can tell; let it, therefore, be told
in some of the greatest words of the greatest man I ever knew.
These you will find in the first nine lines of a letter on page
323, vol. ii., of the 'Life of Darwin,' and in one respect you
have conferred an additional benefit, for, unlike him, I did not
previously know that my own feelings of friendship were so fully
reciprocated. If you think that this amounts to a confession of
dulness on my part, my only excuse is that I formed too just an
estimate of my own merits as compared with those of a friend. All
that the latter were, or in this estimate must ever continue to
be, I shall not now venture to say; for, if I did, the peculiar
ethics of the Paget family (which you have been good enough to
explain) would certainly pound this letter into a pulp. But there
are two remarks which I may hazard. The first is, that I make it
a point of what may be called æsthetic conscience never to write
anything in verse which is not perfectly _sincere_. The next
is, that my dulness is not so bad as to have prevented me from
observing the Sebastian attachment.
Last Christmas I lost my greatest and my dearest friend.[39] This
Christmas I have found that I had a better friend than I was
aware of. For the seasonable kindness, therefore, of your truly
Yule-tide consolation, _gratias tibi ago_.
Ever yours, most sincerely,
G. J. ROMANES.
For some years a delightful society existed in London, known as the
'Home Quartet Union,' the members of which met at different houses
and listened to perfect music performed by first-rate artists under
perfect conditions.
There were few happier evenings in his life than those spent in such
a way.
Of all composers, Beethoven represented to him everything that
was highest in art or poetry; for Beethoven, Mr. Romanes had much
the same reverence and admiration which he felt for Darwin, and
perhaps Beethoven, in other and very different ways, taught him and
influenced him much.
He was very catholic in his musical tastes, except perhaps that
Italian opera never greatly fascinated him. Wagner's operas, on the
other hand, became a great delight, particularly after a visit to
Baireuth in 1889, where he saw Parsifal and Meistersinger.
Politics interested Mr. Romanes moderately. He was by nature and
by family tradition a Conservative, but he cared very little for
parties, and admired great men on whichever side of the House they
sat.
Perhaps of all living politicians, the one for whom he had the
greatest enthusiasm and respect was Mr. Arthur Balfour. For him,
both as a politician and as a thinker, Mr. Romanes had an unbounded
admiration.
EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL[40]
_Feb. 1881._--Went to Mr. Norman Lockyer. Several people,
including William Black, the novelist, were there. After Mr.
Lockyer had shown us several experiments in spectrum analysis,
a lady asked him 'What is the use of the spectroscope?' Called
on Mr. Cotter Morison and saw some beautiful books. He is a
wonderfully good talker.
_June 1881._--Dinner at the Spottiswoodes'. Mr. Browning was
there and talked much about Victor Hugo. He mentioned that when
Wordsworth was told that Miss Barrett had married Mr. Browning,
he replied, 'It's a good thing these two understand each other,
for no one else understands them.'
Garvock, Perthshire: November 5, 1881.
My dearest Charlotte,--I thought you would like the photos, and
your letter to-day more than justifies my anticipation. Coming
events cast their shadows before, and it will not now be long
before you see the former. These are both exceedingly well. I
wish you could see little Ethel dancing. It is now her greatest
amusement, and she does it with all the state and gravity of an
eighteenth century _grande dame_.
Many thanks for your prompt action about the proofs. You did
everything in the best possible way, as I knew you would. It is a
great blessing you were in London at the time, as the caretaker
would be sure to have made some mistake, and time is pressing.
The duke has answered me in this week's 'Nature,' and likewise
has Carpenter. I have written a rejoinder for next week's issue
in a tone which I have tried to make at once dignified and blunt.
I send you a riddle which I have just made. See if you can answer
it in your next.
'My first is found in Scripture,
My second hangs in air,
My third a thing to all unknown,
Yet maps can tell you where.
My whole is neither fact nor thing,
A word, yet not a word,
And if you stand me on my head,
I'm bigger by a third.'[41]
Much love from both to both.
Yours ever the same,
GEORGE.
In this Journal constant mention occurs of concerts and of the
pleasure given by amateur musical friends. The late Professor Rowe's
name often occurs, he succeeded Professor Clifford at University
College, and besides his great mathematical attainments he was also a
most accomplished musician. He played Schumann especially in the most
poetic way.
_Journal, Feb. 1882._--Lecture by Professor Tyndall on the action
of molecular heat. Triumphant vindication of his own work against
Magnus and Tait.
_April 2._--Sunday, the 25th, we spent at Oxford, met the Warden
of Keble in Mr. F. Paget's rooms, as a year ago we had met Dr.
Liddon. Met Mr. Vernon Harcourt at Christ Church.
_May._--Met Shorthouse, author of 'John Inglesant,' at the F.
Pollocks'. He spoke of Mr. Scott-Holland's review of his book.
Sir T. Bramwell lectured the other day at the Royal Institution
on the making of the Channel tunnel, and was as amusing as usual.
_June._--Interesting talk with Mr. J. R. Green. Both J. R. G.
and G. J. R. agreed that Herbert Spencer, Professor Huxley, and
Leslie Stephen only represented one side of the question, _i.e._
that conduct can only be called moral when it is beneficial to
the race, and that the ethical quality of an action is determined
solely by its effects as beneficial or injurious. This purely
mechanical view of morality deprives morality of what both
speakers considered the essential elements of morality as such,
_i.e._ the feeling of right and wrong, so that, _e.g._, ants and
bees, according to this canon, have a right to be considered more
truly moral than men.
The view taken by J. R. G. and G. J. R. was that the essential
element of morality resided in feeling and inclination.
_To Miss C. E. Romanes._
18 Cornwall Terrace: June 9.
My dearest Charlotte,--We are all well and lively. Ascot and
an 'at home' yesterday; to-day artists' studios, dinner at the
Pagets', and Sanderson's lecture; to-morrow, College of Surgeons'
reception and dinner party of our own; and next week, one, two,
or three engagements for every day. 'Babylon' is in full swing,
and I heard yesterday, from the head of the Census department,
that for the last ten years it has been growing at the rate of
1,000 per week.
I have only time to write a few lines to thank you and the mother
for the very jolly letters received this morning, and to let you
know that we are all well.
The reason of my haste now is this extraordinary discovery that
has been made in the Botanical Gardens, and which you have
probably read about in the 'Times.' Medusæ have been found in
swarms in the fresh-water tank of the Victoria Regina Lily.
Such a thing as a fresh-water Medusa has never been heard of
before, and I want to lose no time in getting to work upon his
physiology. You see, when I don't go to the jelly-fish the
jelly-fish come to me, and I am bound to have jelly-fish wherever
I go.
It would have been very odd if I had been the discoverer, as I
should have been had I known that there was a living Victoria
Regis, for then I should have gone to see the plant, and would
not have failed to see the Medusæ. Only in that case I might have
begun to grow superstitious, and to think that in some way my
fate was bound up in jelly-fish.
I must get to work soon because all the naturalists are in a high
state of excitement, and there has been a regular scramble for
priority.
The worst about this jelly-fish is that it will only live in a
temperature of 90°, so I shall have to work at it in the Victoria
House, which is kept at a temperature of 100°, and makes one
'sweat.' But I shall not work long at a time.
From 1882 to 1890 Mr. Romanes rented Geanies, a beautiful place
overlooking the Moray Firth. It belongs to a cousin of the Romanes
family, Captain Murray, of the 81st Regiment. Captain Murray's mother
and sisters lived not far away, and the Murrays and Romanes formed a
little coterie in that not very populous neighbourhood.
He continued to be an ardent sportsman, and probably his happiest
days were those he spent tramping over moors or plodding through
turnips in those October days of perfect beauty, which seem
especially peculiar to Scotland.
The surroundings of Geanies, without being romantically beautiful,
have a charm of their own. There is a certain melancholy and
loneliness about the inland landscape round Geanies which appealed
strongly to him. It is a place abounding in every kind of sea-bird,
and it is almost impossible to describe the weird, uncanny effect
which the long endless twilight of the summer, the silence broken by
hootings of owls, by the scream of a sea-gull, produce on one.
It is an old rambling house with long passages and mysterious
staircases, and, as the children found, endless conveniences for
playing at hide-and-seek. The library is a most lovely room, lined
with bookcases, and leading into an old-fashioned garden, full of
sweet-smelling flowers.
It is impossible to imagine a more ideal abode for a poet, a
naturalist, a botanist, a sportsman, than this, his summer home; and
as Mr. Romanes was, to some extent, all four, Geanies was a place of
exceeding happiness to him.
Two of his sonnets are dedicated to his dogs, 'To my Setters,'
and 'To Countess,' and the following letter will show him as a
sportsman.
[Illustration: GEANIES, ROSS-SHIRE
_Reproduced from a photograph by Messrs. W. Smith & Co. Tain_]
_To Mrs. Romanes._
Achalibster,[42] Caithness: August 14, 1883.
To-day turned out not at all bad after all; and although there
was a good deal too much rain I had a glorious time. Bag twenty
brace of grouse, one brace plover, one hare, one duck; I could
easily have got more, only Bango got so tired in the afternoon
that we knocked off at five o'clock, moreover I did not begin
till eleven, as I did not wake till ten! So the twenty brace was
shot in about five hours. The new setter 'Flora' is a beauty. She
is extraordinarily like Bango, but with a prettier face. She is a
splendid worker.
Even at Geanies he always 'worked' for some part of the day, and
sport, tennis, boating, filled up the rest of his time.
Very often there was a house party, and the evenings were
particularly bright--merry talk, games, very amateurish theatricals,
learned discussions. Nothing came amiss to the master of the house.
He was always a little apt to be absent-minded and dreamy, and his
pet name, bestowed on him by the dearest and merriest of all the
merry 'Geanies brotherhood' was 'Philosopher.' It stuck, and many
people only knew him by that name.
No one ever appreciated a good story more than he, and, as a friend
has said, 'his laugh was so merry and so often heard.'
His own jokes were invariably free from any unkindness, and he did
not in the least appreciate repartee or epigram, the point of which
lay chiefly, if not wholly, in unkindness. Many friends enlivened
his summer home, and all those who paid a second visit were known as
the 'Geanies brotherhood.'
_Journal, Geanies, July 26._--Yesterday came the terrible news of
Mr. Frank Balfour's sudden death.[43] His loss is irreparable. It
is only a month since we met him at Cambridge, looking so well,
quite recovered from his recent illness; we were looking forward
to his promised visit.
_Sept._--Mr. Lockyer, the Bruntons, and the Burdon Sandersons
have been here. Memorial Poem to Darwin begun.
_Nov. 14, Edinburgh._--Met for the first time Mr. and Mrs.
Butcher, who were just taking possession of the Greek Chair; also
Professor Blackie, who was _himself_, and talked much of the
insolence of John Bull.
_Jan. 1883._--Dr. Sanderson is elected Professor of Physiology at
Oxford.
To this election was due the ultimate change in Mr. Romanes' life in
1890, when he followed Dr. Sanderson to Oxford, attracted mainly by
the facilities for physiological research.
On Jan. 2 of this year (1883) his mother died.
Mr. Romanes lectured at the Royal Institution in January, and
immediately afterwards went abroad on one of the only two Continental
tours he took simply for pleasure. He much enjoyed this Italian
journey, and the rhyming instinct woke up in him greatly. He wrote
a good deal about this time, and one of his sonnets has reference
to this journey--'Florence.' He also made acquaintance for the
first time with a good many well-known novels, read to him during
a temporary illness at Florence--the precursor, alas, of many such
times of novel-reading. He shared Mr. Darwin's tastes for simple,
pure, love stories, and one of the party at Florence well remembers
how 'The Heir of Redclyffe' brought tears to his eyes. For this and
'The Chaplet of Pearls,' read to him some years later, he had a great
admiration.
_Journal, March 28, 1883._--Mr. F. Paget's wedding in St. Paul's,
a special anthem by Stainer. The Warden of Keble and Dr. Liddon
married them, and the whole service was very impressive.
_June._--Mr. Spottiswoode's death has been a terrible blow.
Service at the Abbey. We put off our party on June 27th; it
seemed improper to have a party, mainly composed of scientific
people, the very day after the death of the President of the
Royal Society.
_12th._--Dinner at the Pagets'. Met Browning,[44] who is entirely
on Carlyle's side _à propos_ of Froude's recent revelations.
_15th._--Went to Professor and Mrs. Allman, at Parkston. He is a
most fascinating naturalist of the old type, caring for birds,
and beasts, and flowers.
Met Mr. E. Clodd the other night, who alluded to 'Physicus'[45]
and the tone of depression in the book. ('Candid Examination of
Theism.')
This year Mr. Romanes and Professor Ewart set up a small laboratory on
the Geanies coast, and the Journal notes:
Professor Ewart could not get the farmhouse he hoped, and this
was unfortunate, as he had written to the British Association
and invited one or two foreigners to come and work and live in
this farmhouse. In vain were the foreigners warned not to come,
for one evening in walked a young Dane, who preceded a postcard
he had sent announcing his arrival. Very nice, and extremely
embarrassed at finding himself in a country house where people
dressed for dinner.
However, he got accommodation in the neighbourhood and worked
at Ascidians, but the experiment of inviting stray foreign
scientists was abandoned.
_Sept._--The Allmans, Turners, and Mr. Lockyer have been here,
and we have been getting up some private theatricals.
_Jan. 1884._--Lecture at the Royal Institution on 'the Darwinian
Theory of Instinct.'
_To Miss C. E. Romanes._
January 5, 1884.
I am preparing a beautiful surprise for Ethel after she comes
down again. The library is to have its end wall papered and
panelled, the conservatory is to be painted green, and filled
with stands of flowers, and the little room is to have the window
filled with stained glass, the walls, ceiling, and doors,
beautifully papered and decorated. I expect my book to pay the
bills. Is not this a nice idea?
Little Ethel's ideas about writing, by the way, are original.
A few days ago she wanted me to play at gee-gee. I said, 'No,
Ethel, father is writing.' She asked, 'Writing letters or writing
book?' I said, 'Writing book.' Whereupon she made the shrewd
remark--'Father not writing to anybody, father can play gee-gee.'
So much for her estimate of my popularity as an author.
_Journal, April._--Lecture at Manchester; stayed with Professor
Boyd Dawkins.
This year Mr. Romanes attended Canon Curteis' 'Boyle Lectures' at
Whitehall.
_Journal, March 1883._--'G. Lectured at ----. One of the hearers
asked whether in the lecturer's opinion man or animals had first
appeared on the earth! G. spent a pleasant day at Bromsgrove with
the F. Pagets.'
_To James Romanes, Esq._
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: June 1, 1884.
My dearest James,--Little Ethel has just brought me the enclosed
letter to send to you. She had written it as far as the up and
down lines go, and said it was to tell you how much she loved
you, and how sorry she was that she should not see you when she
goes to Geanies. She then asked me to tell her how to write kiss.
I told her that in letters they write kiss by a cross, and then
she made the crosses. She also made me promise to send you the
letter at once, without any delay; and as the idea of writing
you a letter was entirely her own, I do as I was told. You may
take it as a definite expression of the emotions, even though it
be not a very intelligible expression of ideas.
She wants to know why you are going away, and whether you will
write to her when you are away, and a heap of other questions of
the same kind.
We are all well now, and I am just going with the two Ethels to a
children's service, which they both enjoy. It is very pretty to
hear the little one singing with the other children, which she
does perfectly in tune.
They are waiting for me now, so with best love from all,
Yours ever the same,
GEORGE.
In 1885 came the first warnings of ill-health. Mr. Romanes had
a short but very sharp illness, and after that year he suffered
frequently from gout, which necessitated visits to various foreign
'cures.' He was a perfect travelling companion, he liked to have
arrangements made for him, and was never discomposed if anything went
wrong, never put out by any of the ordinary mischances of travel.
Although he always professed indifference to architecture and art, he
would grow quite boyishly enthusiastic over some cathedral, as his
sonnets to Amiens, and Christ Church, Oxford,[46] testify, and for
sculpture he had a real love.
In May 1885 came the first marked public utterance which showed that
Mr. Romanes was now in a very different mental attitude to that in
which he wrote his 'Candid Examination of Theism.'
He delivered the Rede Lecture at Cambridge, and in it he criticises
the materialistic position. (It must be remembered that his
anti-Theistic book was published anonymously, and at that time he had
no intention of ever referring to it.)
The reaction set in very soon after the 'Candid Examination' was
published.
He was severe, as it seemed often to those who knew him best, unduly
severe with himself, and often described himself as utterly agnostic
when possibly 'bewildered' would have better described him.
Through these years, underneath all the outward happiness, the
intense love for scientific work, there was the same longing and
craving for the old belief, and before his eyes was always the
question, 'Is Christian faith possible or intellectually justifiable
in the face of scientific discovery?'
These years between 1879 and 1890 were years of frequent despondency,
of almost despair, but also of incessant seeking after truth, and
year after year he grew gradually nearer Christian belief.
The letters which follow will be interesting in this place. They
arose out of a correspondence in 'Nature.'[47]
_To Professor Asa Gray._
May 16, 1883.
Dear Professor Gray,--The receipt of your kind letter of
the 1st instant has given me in full measure the sincerest
kind of pleasure; for in the light supplied by your second
letter communicated to 'Nature' I came deeply to regret my
misunderstanding of the spirit in which you wrote the first one,
and now you enable me to feel that we have shaken hands over the
matter.
For my own part I am always glad when differences in matter of
opinion admit of being honestly expressed without enmity, and
still more so when, as in the present case, this discussion leads
to a basis of friendship. I therefore thank you most heartily for
your letter, and remain yours very truly,
G. J. ROMANES.
P.S.--If you have not already happened to read a book called 'A
Candid Examination of Theism,' I should like to send you a copy.
I wrote it six or seven years ago and published it anonymously
in 1878. I do not now hold to all the arguments, nor should I
express myself so strongly on the argumentative force of the
remainder, but I should like you to read the book, in order to
show you how gladly I would enter your camp if I could only see
that it is on the side of Truth.
December 30, 1883.
Dear Professor Gray,--I sent you my papers as a return for those
which you so kindly sent to me, and for which I have written to
thank you before. I quite agree with your view, that the doctrine
of the human mind having been proximately evolved from lower
minds is not incompatible with the doctrine of its having been
due to a higher and supreme mind. Indeed, I do not think the
theory of evolution, even if fully proved, would seriously affect
the previous standing of this more important question.
The sorrow is, that this question is so far removed from the
reach of any trustworthy answer. Or, at least, such is the sorrow
if that answer when it comes is to prove an affirmative. If it
is to be an eternal sleep, no doubt it is better to live as we
are than in the certainty of a Godless universe. But although
we cannot find any sure answer to this momentous question, I
cannot help feeling that it is reasonable (although it may not
be orthodox) to cherish this much faith, that if there is a God,
whom, when we see, we can truly worship as well as dread, He
cannot _ex hypothesi_ be a God who will thwart the strong desire
which He has implanted in us to worship Him, merely because we
cannot find evidence enough to believe this or that doctrine of
dogmatic Theology.
But I do not know why I should thus trouble you with my troubles,
unless it is that the kindness of your letters has broken through
the bars by which we usually imprison such feelings from the
world. Anyhow, I thank you for that kindness, and hope you will
forgive this somewhat odd requital.
Very sincerely yours,
G. J. ROMANES.
'_The desire to worship Him._'
These words are the key-note of the religious history of the pure and
noble character which I am trying to describe.
The letters, so touching in the momentary breaking down of reserve,
give, as it were, a glimpse of the inner life, give an indication of
the struggle, the perplexity, the sorrow which eleven years later
ended in 'Eternal Peace.'
Readers of the lately published 'Thoughts on Religion' will see
how gradually he grew to perceive the _reasonableness_ of the
Christian Faith; he had never doubted the beauty, the moral worth,
the attraction of that faith. And with him it was what Dante in his
'Paradiso' puts into S. Bernard's mouth:
'A quella luce cotal si diventa,
Che volgersi da lei per altro aspetto
È impossibil che mai si consenta.'
And through all these years there was a constant willingness to try
to aid other people in their difficulties, to remove stumbling-blocks
which hindered others. He was always willing to discuss problems of
belief, always perfectly fair and candid, and there were not a few
who, since his death, have spoken of the real help which he gave
them. He did not drop religious observances; on Sunday in London he
usually went to Christ Church, Albany Street, of which the present
Bishop of St. Albans was then vicar, and for some years at Geanies
he had a short Evening Service for guests and servants who could not
drive ten miles to church.
This service, unless a clergyman happened to be staying at Geanies,
he conducted himself, and ended it by reading a sermon. He had all
his Presbyterian ancestors' love for a good discourse, and serious
efforts had to be made to prevent him from reading too long a sermon.
Mozley's 'University Sermons' he liked particularly, and when these
were divided, they were tolerated by his audience, who at first
considered them much too long. He also read many of Dean Church's
sermons.
He first knew the Dean in 1883, and although he only went very
occasionally to the Deanery, he was greatly impressed by the
striking personality of the great divine and scholar, whom to know
was to love. The Dean's beautiful style, his great learning, his
intellectual sympathy with perplexities and troubles of heart and
mind, and the indefinable air of distinction which a great writer
stamps on every bit of work he undertakes, all appealed to Mr.
Romanes; and above and beyond all these, the almost austere loftiness
of thought, the moral heights implied in Dean Church's writings,
seized on the mind of one who, beyond all else, reverenced personal
character and personal goodness.
He really enjoyed reading Dean Church's sermons, and they exercised
much influence on him. For Newman, on the other hand, he had little
liking, and indeed he never did Newman adequate justice. He had
promised a friend just before his death to read more of Newman, and
discover for himself the great gifts of that wonderful man, but there
was not time. Only one bit of Newman's writing was dear to him,
'Lead, kindly Light.'
The following letter rose out of a conversation Mr. Romanes had with
Dr. Paget, during one of the Oxford visits:
The Palace, Ely: June 15, 1886.
My dear Romanes,--I have often and anxiously thought over the
question which you asked me when you were at Oxford about your
boy's education, and the part which you should take in his
religious training: and I would venture, with most true and
affectionate gratitude for your trust, to write a few lines in
partial qualification of what I then said.
I start on the ground of your own wish (for which indeed I am
with all my heart thankful) that your boy's character should
be fashioned after the Christian type and under the influence
of Christ. And I am as anxious as ever that, even if your own
estimate of the evidences of Christianity should for a long
while remain as it is, your children may never, in their later
years, feel that you ever taught them anything which you did not
believe: on every ground I long to avoid all danger of such a
thought crossing their minds. But at the same time I do long that
they may be spared to the very last possible moment the knowledge
that in the judgment of the mind which they, I hope, will most
reverence and love, the bases of their religious trust and hope
are uncertain. It is only far on in life, I think, that a man
comes to realise either the vast importance of things which are
not held with absolute certainty, or the mysterious and complex
nature of the act of faith, and the discipline of obscurity, and
the way in which real spiritual progress may be going on where
the mind seems only to be holding on, as it were, with fear and
trembling.
To a boy of sixteen the mere knowledge of uncertainty in his
father's mind may drain all the moral cogency out of the whole
conception of religion:--the very suspicion of the uncertainty
may unnerve him more than the full realisation of the doubt would
change his father's aim and hope in doing his duty.
And so, at the risk of paining you--believe me, I would rather
have the pain than give it you--and presuming very thankfully on
the wish of which you spoke, I would plead that your children
might remain as long as possible in ignorance of your uncertainty
and anxiety; that they should only know in a general way that the
religious influences, the principles of their Godward life which
they receive, are given to them by your wish--that you would have
them grow up after that type, with that hope and aspiration; and
I would plead that _for their sakes_ you should suffer the pain,
great as it may be, of being reticent where you long to be ever
communicative, ever unreserved. You may be unspeakably thankful
some day that you did so suffer:--and, whatever comes, you will
be sure of your children's deepest love and gratitude, if ever
they should know that this was one of your acts of self-sacrifice
for them.
Please forgive me, dear Romanes, where I have written
blunderingly, or given you unnecessary pain. I pray God to guide
and teach and gladden both you and yours, and I am
Your affectionate friend,
FRANCIS PAGET.
Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: June 24, 1886.
My dear Paget,--I should indeed require to be made of unduly
sensitive material, if either the extreme kindness of your
thought or the most considerate delicacy of your expression could
give me pain. Pain I have, but it is of a kind that is beyond the
power of friends either to mitigate or to increase.
The advice which you give accords precisely with my own view of
the matter, and it is needless to say that in such an agreement
I find no small degree of satisfaction. Moreover, the principles
which it thus appears to be my duty to adopt are made easy for
me.... So that on the whole it does not now appear to me that in
its practical aspects the problem is likely to prove difficult
of solution; although theoretically, or as a matter of ethics, I
do think it is a complex question whether (or how far) parents
should teach dogmas as facts, or matters of faith as matters of
knowledge. Happily, however, ethics are to morals very much what
shadow is to sunshine; and in seeking to follow the right or the
good, instinct is often a better guide than syllogism.
And now, in conclusion, let me endeavour--inadequately as it must
be--to express my deep sense of gratitude to you for having so
earnestly taken my troubles into your consideration. I assure you
that your letter has touched me truly, and that on its account I
am more than ever happy to subscribe myself
Your affectionate friend,
GEO. J. ROMANES.
Journal says:--
_April 12, 1885._--Went with the Church family to St. Paul's and
heard a fine sermon from Dr. Liddon. He spoke very touchingly of
Lady Selborne's death, and also alluded to Max Müller's new book.
Have been to Pfleiderer's Hibbert Lectures.[48] We met Pfleiderer
the other day, and he described a Sunday in which he had tried
to study English religious life. Spurgeon, Parker, and, I think,
Stopford Brooke or Haweis, I forget which, he took as samples!
Pfleiderer also went to St. Paul's on the day the Bishop of
Lincoln[49] was consecrated, and as he got within earshot he
heard Dr. Liddon's silvery voice pronouncing his own name _not_
with approval.
_Geanies, August._--Mr. Cotter Morison is here, and is most
amusing. Mr. Horsburgh asked two comic riddles: 'Why are men like
telescopes and women like telegrams?'
Men are like telescopes, because they are made to be drawn out
and shut up; and women are like telegrams because they far exceed
the males (mails) in intelligence.
G. fiddled at an amateur concert at Tain.
Mr. F. Galton is here. He told us an amusing child's question:
'How did sausages get along when they were alive?'
_To Miss C. E. Romanes._
Geanies, Ross-shire: November 7, 1885.
The two Ethels left this afternoon _minus_ their luggage and
luncheon, which arrived at the station with the dog-cart just
as the train was leaving. Pathetic it was to see their hungry
eyes looking at the neat luncheon basket from the train windows!
We are all well here. L---- is here. He has now fired his first
hundred cartridges, and has nothing to show but a brace of cats
which he took a pot shot at in the trees.
November 12.
I am now playing at the last day in the old house, and doing so
in the library all by myself. L---- left this morning, and we all
leave to-morrow. Gerald now leads me from one room to another,
and after opening the door and looking round each says, 'All
gone!'
I have somewhat relieved the monotony of my solitary life by
buying a horse. This you will no doubt think is a purchase well
timed and thus worthy of a philosopher. For six months at least
I shall have to pay for his keep, and never have a chance of a
single bit of use for him all that time. Yet, strange to say, I
think I have made a good bargain.
_Nov., Edinburgh._--Dined at Dalmeny. We met Mr. and Mrs.
Gladstone, and also Lieutenant Greely, of Arctic fame.
_Nov., London._--Dinner with the F. Galtons, and met the Leckys
and other nice people. Mr. Galton says the study of statistics
fascinates him just as skating on thin ice does some people--it's
so perilous.
Returning for a little while to the scientific work of these years,
one may say that they were chiefly devoted to the more philosophical
side of his work as a naturalist.
'Animal Intelligence,' 'Mental Evolution in Animals,' appeared
respectively in 1881 and 1883, and are works designed to prove that
the law of evolution is universal, and applies to the mind of man as
well as to his bodily organisation.
Mr. Romanes read widely and observed much, and no one less deserved
the charge of writing without observing, or of being a 'paper
philosopher.' Both these books abound in stories of animals, and are
full of interest for anyone caring at all for 'beasts,' quite apart
from the special object of the books.
Lecturing and reviewing were, so to speak, pastimes to him, and gave
him little trouble. One lecture given at the Royal Institution on
'The Mental Differences between Men and Women' drew upon the head of
the unlucky lecturer a great storm of indignation--why, the writer of
this memoir has never been able to discover.
In May 1886, Mr. Romanes read a paper before the Linnean Society on
'Physiological Selection, an additional suggestion on the origin of
species.' This paper was the outcome of many years' study of the
philosophy of evolution, during which time he had gradually been
coming to the conclusion that natural selection cannot be regarded as
the sole guiding factor in the production of species, but that there
must be some other cause at work in directing the course of evolution.
The theory of natural selection rests on two classes of observable
facts: first, that all plants and animals are engaged in a perpetual
struggle for existence, there being in every generation of every
species a great many more individuals born than can possibly survive;
and secondly, that the offsprings, although closely resembling the
parent form, do present individual variations. It follows, therefore,
that those individuals presenting variation in any way beneficial
to them in the struggle for existence will survive as being the
fittest to do so, Nature, so to speak, selecting certain individuals
of each generation, enabling them not only to live themselves, but
also to transmit their favourable qualities to their offspring. If a
special line of variation is in some way preserved, there may result
a variety so fixed and so distinct from the parent and collateral
related forms as to constitute a separate species.
Further, since the environment (_i.e._ the sum total of the external
conditions of life) is continually changing, it follows that natural
selection may slowly alter a type in adaptation to the slowly
changing environment, and if in any case the alterations effected
are sufficient in amount to lead naturalists to name the result a
distinct species, then natural selection has transmuted one specific
type into another.
Mr. Romanes pointed out that the theory of natural selection only
accounts for such organic changes as are of _use_ to the species--by
use signifying life-preserving--that it is, in fact, a theory of the
origin and cumulative development of adaptations, whether these be
distinctive of species, or of genera, families, classes, &c.
The question then arises, do species differ from species _solely_
in points of a useful character, as they undoubtedly should do if
natural selection has been the sole factor in their formation?
Investigation shows that systematists recognise a species by a
collection of characters, the value of a character depending not
on its _utility_, but upon its _stability_; in fact, a large
proportional number of specific characters, such as minute details
of structure, form, and colour, are wholly without meaning from a
utilitarian point of view. Investigation further shows that the most
general of all the 'notes' of a true species is _cross-infertility_,
that is, the infertility of the offspring of two individuals
belonging to separate species: this, it was urged, could not be due
to the action of natural selection. Lastly, apart from the primary
distinction of cross-infertility, and the inutility of so many of the
secondary specific distinctions, neither of which can be explained
by the action of natural selection, Mr. Romanes was strongly of the
opinion that even if a beneficial variation did arise, the swamping
effects of free intercrossing would reabsorb it, and so render
evolution of species in divergent lines, as distinguished from linear
transmutation, impossible. This last difficulty can only be met
by assuming that the same beneficial variation arises in a number
of individuals simultaneously, for which assumption our present
knowledge furnishes no warrant. If natural selection is brought
forward as the sole factor in the guidance of organic evolution,
then he considered that these difficulties remain insurmountable;
if, however, it is regarded as a factor, even the chief factor, then
these difficulties vanish, it being consistent, in the latter case,
to hold the other factor, or factors, responsible for an explanation
of the difficulties in question. It was the object of this paper to
suggest another factor in the formation of species, which, although
_independent_ of natural selection, was in no way _opposed_ to it,
and might be called _supplementary_ to it, and was at the same time
capable of explaining the facts, of the _inutility of many specific
characters_, the _cross-infertility of allied species_, and the
_non-occurrence of free intercrossing_. Very briefly indicated,
Mr. Romanes' line of argument is as follows:--Every generation of
every species presents an enormous number of variations, of which
only the ones that happen to be useful are preserved by natural
selection. The useless variations are allowed to die out immediately
by intercrossing.
Consequently, if intercrossing be prevented, there is no reason why
unuseful variations should not be perpetuated by heredity quite as
much as useful ones when under the nursing influence of natural
selection. Thus, if from any cause, a section of a species is
prevented from intercrossing with the rest of its parent form, it is
to be expected that new varieties--for the most part of a trivial and
unuseful kind--should arise within that section, and in time pass
into new species. This supposition is borne out by the nature of the
flora and fauna of oceanic islands, which are particularly rich in
peculiar species, and where intercrossing was, of course, prevented
with the original parent forms by the action of the geographical
boundaries.
However, closely allied species are not always, or even generally,
separated by geographical boundaries, and the cross-infertility
remains to be explained. The cardinal feature of Mr. Romanes' theory
is that the initial step in the origin of species is the arising
of this infertility as an independent variation, by which, free
intercrossing with the parent form on a common area is prevented,
and specific differentiation rendered possible. Innumerable varieties
are known to occur which do not pass into distinct species, the
reason being that this initial variation, that is, incipient
infertility whereby the swamping effects of intercrossing might
be obviated, was lacking, and the variations became re-absorbed.
That is, given any degree of sterility towards the parental form
which does not extend to the varietal form, then a new species must
take its origin. Without the bar of sterility, in Mr. Romanes'
opinion, free intercrossing must render the formation of species
impossible. Mutual sterility is thus the cause, not the result, of
specific differentiation. As regards the occurrence of this initial
variation, the reproductive system is known to be highly variable,
its variability taking the form either of increased fertility, or of
sterility in all degrees, and depending on either extrinsic causes
(changes of food, climate, &c.), or on an intrinsic cause arising in
the system itself.
From the nature of this additional factor at work in the formation of
species, Mr. Romanes called his theory 'physiological selection.'
Physiological selection is conceived of as co-operating with natural
selection, the former allowing the latter to act by interposing
its law of sterility, with the result that the secondary specific
characters may be either adaptive or non-adaptive in character.
_To Miss C. E. Romanes._
Aix-les-Bains: May 1886.
The Linnean Society paper went off admirably. There was a larger
attendance than ever I saw there before. But this may have been
partly due to the president (Lubbock) having had a paper down for
the same evening. He was considerate enough to withdraw it at
the last moment so as to leave all the evening for mine. I spoke
for an hour and a half, and the discussion lasted another hour.
The paper itself I have brought with me here, and am now putting
the last touches upon it.
Probably I shall have to try the rat experiment again, if
the young ones show no signs of piebalding. But look at them
occasionally to see.
There would be no use in getting the parrot to make a gesture
sign at the same time as he makes a verbal one; for, as you say,
he would only show that he can establish an association between
a phrase and a thing (whether object, quality, or action), and
about this there is no question. The question is whether he can
use verbal signs, not only as stereotyped in phrases (when they
are really equivalent to only one word), but as movable types,
which he can transpose for the purpose of expressing _different_
ideas with the _same_ words.
He writes concerning a Junior Scientific Society which had a meeting
to discuss his theory:
'The meeting was the best fun imaginable, the paper was merely
a statement of my theory by a young man who made it very clear.
---- got up and expressed disapproval of the theory, but
expressly declined to argue, so I had merely to give him some
chaff. The young men highly enjoyed it. Afterwards they were
enthusiastic in their applause.
'I have no doubt, if I had not been present, the class would have
had a very different impression both of me and my theory.'
_To Professor Meldola._
Geanies: September 16, 1886.
Dear Professor Meldola,--Physiological selection seems to have
brought a regular nest of hornets about my head. If I had known
there was to have been so much talk about it at the British
Association I should have gone up to defend the new-born. If you
were there, can you let me know the main objections that were
urged? It seems to me there is a good deal of misunderstanding
abroad, due, no doubt, to the insufficiency with which my theory
has been stated. In 'studying' the paper, therefore, please
keep steadily in view that the backbone of the whole consists
in regarding mutual sterility as the _cause_ (or at least,
the chief _condition_) instead of the _result_ of specific
differentiation. This is just the opposite view to that now held
by all evolutionists, and, I believe, by Darwin himself. (See
'Origin,' pp. 245-246; 'Variation,' ii. pp. 171-175.) Now, if
this view be sound, my theory is obviously not restricted to any
one class of causes that may induce mutual sterility. Such cases
may be either extrinsic or intrinsic as regards the reproductive
system; they may be either direct in their action on that system
or indirect (_e.g._ natural selection, or use and disuse, &c.,
producing morphological changes elsewhere, which in turn react
on that system); therefore these causes may act either on a few
or on many individuals. Yet Wallace does not seem to see this,
but argues in the 'Fortnightly' that they can only act on an
individual here and there.
I sincerely hope you will give your attention to the subject,
because the great danger I now fear is prejudice against the
theory on account of people not taking the trouble to understand
it. How absurd ----, for example, giving that quotation from
'Origin' in 'Nature,' as evidence of Mr. Darwin's having
considered the theory. Read with its context, the passage is
arguing (much against the writer's desire) that variations in
the way of sterility with parent forms cannot be seized upon
(or perpetuated as specific distinctions) by natural selection.
But physiological selection says that such variations _do not
require to be seized upon by natural selection_. Therefore, so
far as the passage in question proves anything, it tends to
show that nothing could have been further from the mind of the
writer than a theory which would have rendered his whole argument
superfluous, and I can scarcely believe that if the theory of
physiological selection had ever occurred to him, he would not
have mentioned it, if only to state his objections to it, as he
has done with regard to so many ideas of a much less feasible
character.
I write at length because I value your judgment more than that of
almost anybody else upon a subject of this kind, and therefore
I should like it to be given with your eyes open. Prejudice at
first there must be, but there need not be misunderstanding;
and private correspondence shows me that the theory has already
struck root in some of the best minds who do understand it. Any
explanation, therefore, will be gladly given you by
Yours very truly,
GEO. J. ROMANES.
_To F. Darwin, Esq._
Geanies: November 5, 1886.
Dear Darwin,--I am much interested by the enclosed, and therefore
much obliged to you for letting me see it. But it would have been
made a better 'answer' if it had gone on to say something about
the relation of such an experiment (supposing it successful)
to the question of originating a species. Some weeks ago I was
planning with a friend a closely analogous experiment, but
designed to produce a 'family' which would be sterile towards
the majority of the parent form, or not only towards one other
'family.' And it seemed to me that if this could be done it would
amount to the artificial creation of a new species by conscious
selection of a physiological kind.
But, as far as I can gather from the enclosed, the idea seems to
be that of experimenting on the conditions leading to sterility;
not that of regarding sterility, however conditional, as itself
the condition of specific divergence. In other words, the passage
seems to go upon the supposition that sterility is the result and
not the cause of specific divergence. But if so, I do not see
that it affects the question whether he ever contemplated the
latter possibility.
I have just received Seebohm's British Association paper, which,
except when it repeats Wallace's objection about the doctrine of
chances, elsewhere curiously contradicts all the points in his
criticism.
The editor of the 'Fortnightly' tells me that a further delay
has arisen in bringing out my reply, on account of Wallace
desiring to answer it. For my own part I think that all this fire
of criticism at the present juncture is a mistake. As yet the
theory is only a 'suggestion,' and, until tested, there can be no
adequate data for forming a definite opinion.
Therefore I regret the published opposition--those who are in
favour do not publish only because it may tend to choke off
co-operation in carrying out the experiments; and it was for the
sake of securing assistance in so laborious a research that I
published the suggestion in outline.
I wonder who Catchpole is? His answer in 'Nature' to Wallace
won't do.
Yours very truly,
GEO. J. ROMANES.
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: January 7, 1887.
Dear Darwin,--Some time ago you write that I ought to read a book
or paper by Jordan about varieties in relation to sterility. I
cannot find any book or paper of his at the L.S. library which
treats of this subject; could you give me the name of his essay?
I am making arrangements for trying whether there are any degrees
of sterility to be found between well-marked and constant
varieties of plants. But as I have never done anything in the way
of hybridising, perhaps you would be good enough to let me know
whether the enclosed plan of experimenting represents the full
and proper way of going to work. I know that you do not believe
in the object of it, but, even supposing it to be a wild goose
chase, there would be no harm in your telling me the best way to
run. Then, whether the results prove positive or negative, it
will not be open for any one to doubt them on the ground of any
fault in the method.
Do any objections occur to you _re_ my answer to critics in the
'Nineteenth Century'? Of course I might have said more about
the swamping effects of free intercrossing (which appears to
me the only point in which I deviate at all from the 'Origin
of Species'), but it is much too large a subject to be dealt
with in a review. My greatest difficulty here is to conceive
the possibility of differentiation (as distinguished from
transmutation in linear series) without the assistance of
isolation in some form or another.
Yours very truly,
GEO. J. ROMANES.
Dear Darwin,--Criticism of an intelligent kind is what I feel
most in need of, and therefore it is no merit on my part to like
it when it comes.
The point about the combined action of natural and physiological
selection is, after all, a very subordinate one, and, as I said
in 'Nature' some weeks ago, is the most highly speculative and
least trustworthy part of the theory. Moreover, it is the only
part that is directly opposed to an expressed conclusion in the
'Origin,' though, even here, the opposition is not real. If
natural selection can do anything at all in the way of bringing
about sterility with parent forms, it can only do so by acting on
the type or whole community (for I quite agree with the reasoning
in the 'Origin,' that it cannot do so by acting on individuals);
and whether natural selection could in any case act on a type is
a question which your father has told me he could never quite
make up his mind about, except in the case of social hymenoptera
and moral sense of man.
You will see what I mean by 'secondary variations' by looking
at page 366 of my paper. It is merely a short-hand expression
for all other specific differences save the sexual difference
of sterility. My view is that these secondary differences are
always sure to arise sooner or later in some direction or
another wherever a portion of a species is separated from the
rest, whether by geographical or physiological isolation, which,
indeed, as regards the former, is no more than you (following
Weismann, &c.) acknowledge. Now, to me it seems obvious that
Weismann's 'variations' (_i.e._ slight changes in the form
of shells) cannot possibly be themselves my 'physiological
sports,' although they may very well be the consequences of
such a sport leading to physiological isolation, and so to
independent variation in two or three directions simultaneously,
till afterwards blended by intercrossing. And my reason for
thinking this is that 'Weismann's variations' always arose in
crops at enormously long intervals of time. On the mere doctrine
of chances it therefore becomes impossible to suppose that
each of these variations was due to a separate physiological
sport, although it is easy to see how each crop of them might
have been so. For, if not, why should they always have arisen
in crops, each member of which was demonstrably fertile with
the other members of that crop, while no less demonstrably
sterile with the original parent form? Therefore, what I see in
these facts is precisely what, upon my theory, I should expect
to see, viz. first, a 'primary variation,' or 'physiological
sport,' arising at long intervals; secondly, closely following
upon this, a crop of 'secondary variations' in the way of slight
morphological changes affecting two or three different 'strains'
simultaneously; and thirdly, an eventual blending of these
strains by intercrossing with one another without being able to
intercross with the surrounding and (at first) very much more
numerous parent form.
But I can now quite understand why you thought these facts
were 'dead against' me; you thought that every single slight
change of morphology must (on my theory) have had a separate
'physiological sport' to account for it. This, however, most
emphatically is not my theory. Physiological isolation I regard
as having morphological consequences precisely analogous to those
of geographical isolation; and you would not think of arguing
that there must be a separate geographical isolation for every
slight change of structure--for example, that a peculiar species
of plant growing on a mountain top must have had one isolation to
explain its change of form, and another isolation to explain its
change of colour.
Lastly, if you will look up Hilgendorf's paper about these snails
of Steinheim, I think you will find it impossible to suppose
that all these little changes (thus arising at long intervals in
crops) can have been useful. Or, if you can still doubt, look
up the closely analogous but much larger case of the ammonites
investigated by Neumayr and Wurtenberger.
What I meant about the sexual system being specially liable to
variation is, that it is specially liable to variation in the way
of sterility. In other words, changed conditions of life more
readily effect variations in the primary functions of the sexual
system than they do in general morphology. But at the same time,
I quite agree with your view that in the last resort all changes
of structure may be regarded as due to variations of this system.
And, as you will see by turning to pp. 371-72 of my paper,
important capital is made out of this doctrine.
Now about making too much of the inutility of specific
characters; if I do so, it is erring on the side of natural
selection; for it clearly follows from this theory that, if
there are any useless structures at all, they ought to occur
with (greater?) frequency among species, where (as?) yet natural
selection has not had time to remove them. But I cannot think I
have here unduly favoured natural selection. For although there
are not a few instances of apparently useless structures running
through even an entire class (as the 'Origin' remarks), these
are not only infinitely less numerous than apparently useless
structures in species, but are also very much more rarely trivial.
Now the latter fact, coupled with that of the greatly wider
range of their occurrence, appears to me intensely to strengthen
'the argument from ignorance,' _i.e._ to give us much more
justification for believing that they are now, or once were, of
use. For in the case of species, the '_once were_' possibility
is virtually excluded.
_A propos_ to this point, I do not believe that anyone yet has
half done justice to natural selection in respect of its action
subsequent to the formation of species--at least, not expressly.
But I must shut up.
I should greatly like to see Jordan's paper. Sir J. Hooker and
Professor Oliver have sent me references to literature, but
neither of them mention this.
Why my answer to Wallace has not appeared in this month's
'Fortnightly' I am at a loss to understand. The editor bullied me
with letters and telegrams to have it ready in time, till I laid
everything else aside, and sent him back the proof on the 15th.
This new theory roused the public interest (so far as the scientific
public were concerned) and produced much criticism.
There is a scientific orthodoxy as well as a theological orthodoxy
'plus loyal que le roi,' and by the ultra-Darwinians. Mr. Romanes was
regarded as being strongly tainted with heresy.
The 'Times' devoted a leader in August 1886 to the theory, and the
president of Section _D_ at the British Association at Bath in the
same month also criticised it.
A sharp discussion took place in the columns of 'Nature,' and it is
characteristic of those who took the chief part in this controversy
that their friendly relations remained undisturbed. Mr. Wallace
criticised the theory in the 'Fortnightly,' and Mr. Romanes wrote
an article in the 'Nineteenth Century' describing his beliefs on the
subject. This theory was very close to his heart, and perhaps no part
of his work was left unfinished with more keen regret.
He planned a course of experiments on plants in an alpine garden
which, through the kindness of M. Correvon, Professor of Botany at
Geneva, he was able to begin on a plot of ground near Bourg St.
Pierre, on the great St. Bernard.
Other work diverted him a good deal from this, but Mr. Romanes had
always large plans of work, looking forward through a course of years.
There were some experiments on the power dogs possess of tracking by
scent, in the autumn of 1886.
With this year came the appointment to a Lectureship in the
University of Edinburgh on 'The Philosophy of Natural History.'[50]
This lectureship Mr. Romanes held for five years, and he enjoyed the
fortnight's residence in Edinburgh it involved, and the meetings with
Edinburgh people. He gave to his class a course on the History of
Biology, and then proceeded to take them through a course of lectures
on the Evidences of Organic Evolution, on the theories of Lamarck, of
Mr. Darwin himself, and on post-Darwinian theories. These lectures he
worked up into the three years' course he gave as Fullerian Professor
at the Royal Institution, with many additions and alterations. The
substance of them now appears in 'Darwin and after Darwin,' parts
i. and ii. A third volume was to have been devoted to Physiological
Selection, and enough was prepared in the form of notes to justify
publication.
At the end of 1886 there fell on the Romanes family a bitter
sorrow. Of the Geanies 'brotherhood,' the brightest and merriest, a
remarkably handsome, joyous girl, absolutely unselfish and sweet,
most dearly loved and loving, was the first to die. Her death was a
terrible sorrow not only to her own immediate circle of relations,
but to the friends to whom she had been as a very dear sister. On
Mr. Romanes this death, so sudden and so startling, made a deep and
lasting impression. From this time more and more he turned in the
direction of faith, and his feelings found an outlet in poetry more
frequently and more effectually than before.
_To Miss C. E. Romanes._
Edinburgh: Christmas Day, 1886.
My dearest Charlotte,--The time has come when it is some relief
to write, but how shall I begin to tell the sadness of the
saddest tragedy that has ever been put together? First the hours
of fluctuating hope, and then the growing darkness of despair.
She had previously asked whether Ethel and G. J.[51] had come
down from London, and on being told that we were in the house
was so glad. We were admitted at night, and only had to watch
for three hours the peaceful breathing, slower, slower, slower,
until the last. Oh, the unearthly beauty of that face! Nothing I
have ever seen in flesh or in marble--nothing I could have ever
conceived could approach it. But try to picture it as you knew
it in life changed into something so yet more beautiful that it
seemed no longer human, but the face of the angel that she was.
Then in one room her little child, in another her mother, utterly
broken by illness. For my own part I have never had a grief so
great as this. Even in our sister's case there were elements of
mitigation; but here absolutely none. Oh, it is bitter, bitter;
so much of life's happiness emptied out and Edith, our own Edith,
no longer here!
In memory of this friend Mr. Romanes wrote a little poem called 'To a
Bust,' and from this a few lines are given.
There is one point to which the writer of this memoir would like to
call attention.
Mr. Romanes was incapable of exaggeration, of writing for effect,
of insincerity. What he _wrote_ he _felt_, and his very simplicity
and sweetness of character, his childlike trust in the sympathy of
others, made him unreserved to his friends, to those whom he loved.
'Upon that Christmas Eve
We saw thee pass away,
* * * * *
We heard the music of thy parting breath;
We saw a light of angels in thy face--
A beauty so ineffable, that Death
Was changed into a minister of Grace:
* * * * *
The mountains in their autumn hues,
Of mountain reds and mountain blues,
With heather and with highland bells,
Await thy step on hills and fells;
The spongy peat and dewy moss
Remember where we used to cross--
Remember how they loved thy tread,
Make for thy steps their softest bed:
The murmuring streams are calling thee,
The woodlands sigh in every tree;
Yet when I walk upon the shore,
The waves are whispering--nevermore!
Mournfully, mournfully whispering, they,
Whispering, whispering every day,
Thy soul in their waters, thy breath in their spray,
Thy spirit still speaking in all that they say.
They knew thee well, those weedy rocks,
And now they rear their rugged blocks
When I pass by,
To ask me why
They never feel thy tender hands;
And all the yellow of the sands
Is spread to greet
Thy tireless feet,
Which loved to walk them when the tide was low.
Now when I walk alone,
To hear the ocean moan,
The sea-birds circling round
Sweep almost to the ground,
And peep and pry above my head to know
Why thou dost never come,
To watch them flying home,
Upon the purple breast,
Where daylight sinks to rest.'
The Journal 1887, 1888, and 1889 is full of mention of pleasant
dinners and meetings with interesting people. Young as Mr. Romanes
was, he attained long before he died 'that which should accompany
old age--honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,' and as one
turns over the brief records of the Journal one is struck with
the brightness of his outward life. He enjoyed constant pleasant
intercourse with men and women differing widely in pursuits, in
opinions, in social position; he was full of plans for work, work
which led him into many different phases of intellectual life, and
he had every year an admixture of country life and country pursuits,
and the love for music and for poetry, which increased each year,
kept him from growing too absorbed in science, from being at all
one-sided. He used sometimes to say he had too many interests, but be
that as it may, these interests gave him much enjoyment and made him
the most delightful of companions.
A dear friend wrote of him after his death that 'In the home few men
have been more surrounded by love, or have better deserved it,' and
few men have been more loved by those outside his home. He had an
unlimited capacity for loyal, true-hearted friendship. As one most
truly said, 'Romanes was the most loyal of friends.'
There was something womanly in the tenderness which he felt for
anyone in trouble of mind or body, and he was--what perhaps is
even more rare--always ready to put aside his own work to help
other people. He never grudged time or trouble to write letters or
testimonials; he was always ready to go and see people who were sad
or lonely; he was never too busy to be kind. He was intensely loved
by those who served him, and few have been better served. There were
very few changes in his household, and no one was ever more unwilling
to give needless trouble, to find fault without cause, than he, or
more ready to be really grateful for the ungrudging and loving and
devoted service he received. 'You were the nicest master I ever
served,' wrote a gamekeeper. 'To think I have lived for fifteen years
with him and never heard a cross word,' was said the day he was taken
from his home. In money matters he was generous and almost lavish in
readiness to give and also to lend.
In Mr. Romanes there was a certain chivalrous temper which could be
roused to strong indignation where it was encountered by injustice
and oppression, and the following letter to the 'Times' is one of
many such:
_To the Editor of the 'Times.'_
Sir,--On several previous occasions I have been instrumental in
obtaining remission of grievous sentences at the police-courts
by simply drawing attention in your correspondence columns to
the cases as they appear in your police reports. Adopting this
course, I think that the following, which appeared in your issue
of the 29th ult., requires some explanation:
'At Wandsworth, James Clarke, aged 17, a weakly-looking lad,
residing at Byegrove Road, Mitcham, was charged with stealing
two turnips, value 3_d._, growing in a field belonging to Mr.
H. Bunce, at Merton. The prosecutor having lost a quantity of
produce, Police Constable Whitty was set to watch the property,
and saw the prisoner pull the turnips and put them in his pocket.
The accused said he had had nothing to eat all day, and being
very hungry, he took the turnips! A previous conviction was
proved against him for felony, and he was now committed by Mr.
Denman for six weeks' hard labour.'
One would like to possess a good large field of turnips, where
each turnip can be fairly valued at 1½_d._ But, taking this as
the true value of the particular turnips in question, it appears
that a starving man is now serving a week's hard labour for every
half-penny's worth of the cheapest possible kind of food that he
could steal. It is, of course, very right that he should have
received some measure of punishment, if only as a warning to
others in the neighbourhood; but the measure of punishment which
he did receive seems, in the face of the matter, monstrous. We
are not told what was the 'felony' for which this 'weakly-looking
lad' was previously convicted; but, at any rate, we do know that
on the present occasion his theft was not for any purpose of
gain. It must have been, as he said, merely to alleviate the
pains of hunger, for otherwise he would have carried some more
capacious receptacle than either his pockets or his stomach. On
the whole, therefore, I say--and say emphatically--this case
demands some explanation.
I am, Sir, yours, &c.,
LL.D.
He was always ready to listen to what younger men (and women) had to
say, to talk to them about his own subjects, his own work, to draw
out their abilities, to discuss their difficulties. What Mr. Lionel
Tollemache has written of Professor Owen is not less applicable to
him:
'His innate modesty enabled him, when speaking upon his own subject,
so to let himself down to the level of the ordinary listeners that
they not only felt quite at their ease with him, but fancied for the
moment that they were experts like himself.'
_Journal, Jan. 1888._--Met Mr. Burne-Jones at the Humphry Wards',
and had much interesting talk anent Rossetti. Burne-Jones said
Rossetti was like an emperor; his voice was that of a king who
could _quell_ his subjects. Also that he had a wonderful memory
for metre, but that Swinburne's is better still, inasmuch as
he can remember prose. On one occasion Swinburne recited to
Burne-Jones several pages of Milton's prose which he had read
once twenty years previously. Burne-Jones went on to say that
Rossetti worked a great deal at his poetry, and added, 'That's
what you can do with words, worry them as much as you like, but
you can't _tease_ a picture.'
_March 9._--Mr. Leslie Stephen lectured on Coleridge most
admirably.
_To Miss C. E. Romanes._
18 Cornwall Terrace: March 1, 1888.
My dearest Charlotte,--I find that neither of us wrote yesterday,
so I have two of your letters to answer to-day.
You certainly seem to be having much the best time of it as
regards weather. Every week and every day here is worse than
the last--the month which has just ended having been the most
savage February in the memory of living Londoners. You will have
seen that poor Cotter Morison has not survived it. He died last
Sunday, just too soon to see his son, who had been telegraphed
home from India. He had a great desire to live long enough to
have had this meeting, and it seems hard that when he struggled
on so long and painfully at the end, that he should just have
missed it.
For Mr. Morison Mr. Romanes had a great regard, and his death was a
real sorrow.
_Journal._--Sir F. Bramwell lectured on the 'Faults of the
Decimal System,' calling it a lecture without a _point_. He
was killingly amusing. Dinner at Sir H. Thompson's, met Mr. J.
Froude, Hannen, and others.
We met the author of 'The New Antigone' the other night at the
Lillys'. He reviewed 'Mental Evolution in Man' in a R.C. paper
the other day; according to him it's the Gospel of Dirt! Last
Sunday we went to hear Spurgeon; of _his_ personal goodness there
is no doubt.
_May 14._--Stayed in Christ Church with the Pagets. G. had a most
interesting talk with Aubrey Moore. [Mr. Romanes had already,
at the Aristotelian Society, met Mr. Aubrey Moore.] Lunched on
Sunday with the Max Müllers. He showed us a letter from Mr.
Darwin most characteristic in its humility and sweetness.
_May 20._--Very fine sermon from Mr. Scott-Holland on the
Evidence of the Gospels. Tea at the Deanery, and G. had a little
talk with the Dean.
There are frequent mentions now of Mr. Scott-Holland, whom Mr.
Romanes often went to hear.
In 1888 appeared 'Mental Evolution in Man.'
_To Miss C. E. Romanes._
Cornwall Terrace: May 18, 1888.
My own book is certain to make a 'commotion,' if not among 'the
angels' in heaven,[52] at least among 'the saints' upon earth.
One of these same saints has been behaving outrageously in print,
and everybody is full either of jubilation or indignation at
what he has been writing about Darwin and Darwinism. F. Darwin
asked me to do the replying, and to-day I am returning proof of
an article for the 'Contemporary Review.'
I am ashamed to have been so long in writing, but the truth is
that, notwithstanding having put down _Finis_ to my M.S., other
things occurred to me to add, which required recasting some of
the chapters, and so I have been fighting against time, and am
still.
It will not be long now before you have the children.
They are looking forward with great glee to Dunskaith; but you
must take care that they do not make it _too_ lively. I never saw
such nice children myself, but James may find them over-noisy
when they are particularly high-spirited. His godson is the most
comical chap that ever was born. He has a passion for what he
calls 'loaded matches,' _i.e._ matches unused, and so ready to
'go off.' Yesterday his fingers were found to be burnt. Asked
as to the cause, he said he had lighted some loaded matches and
held his fingers in the flames so as to see if he could 'keep
back crying.' This he seems to have done to his own satisfaction,
and now wants to prove his prowess in public. Little Ethel was
found bathed in tears a few days ago in a room by herself, and
the grief turned out to have been on account of the death of the
Emperor.[53]
You ask how the lectures are 'going on.' They are 'going on'
rather too well. Owing to Schäfer having been taken ill with
bronchitis, I agreed to relieve him of some engagements he had
entered into for giving lectures to a Highgate Institution.
Consequently I had to give two lectures on Tuesday (in the
afternoon at the Institution, and in the evening at Highgate),
and another yesterday, besides attending Council meetings, &c.
The Institution lectures give much more satisfaction than I
anticipated, as I thought the historical character of this year's
course would appeal but to a small number of people. But the
audience keeps up to between one hundred and two hundred very
steadily (usually one hundred and fifty), and is in part made up
of outsiders. But I shall not be sorry when they are over, as it
will leave me more time for better work.
I am sorry that there still continue to be so many ups and downs
in your daily reports.[54] The case is, indeed, dreadfully
tedious. How would you like me to run down to see you after my
lectures are over?
I enclose a photo which has just come from a man who is
photographing the Royal Society.
We are all well and flying about in all directions. Such a time
for dinners and concerts and all manner of things; it is a wonder
that we are living at all, as old Jean[55] used to say.
_To J. Romanes, Esq._
March 15, 1889.
I am glad you think so well of what I write, for it often seems
to me that, amid so many distractions and in so many directions,
I work to very little purpose. The 'Guardian' reviewer[56] has
written to me a private letter, from which it appears that he is
a man I know very well. He is Aubrey Moore, of Oxford, and is
considered one of the ablest men there. I enclose his letter,
which I failed to send before.
It is indeed a change for you to like being nursed, and perhaps
not altogether a bad one from the character point of view. The
only 'explanation' I can give is that of the 'adaptation of the
organism to _changed conditions_ of life.'
About this time Mr. Romanes drew up a paper, which is given here, as
it may interest some readers.
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, London, N.W.
Dear Sir or Madam,--While engaged in collecting materials for
a work on Human Psychology, I have been surprised to find the
greatness of the differences which obtain between different
races, and even between different individuals of the same race,
concerning sentiments which attach to the thoughts of death.
With the view, if possible, of ascertaining the causes of such
differences, I am addressing a copy of the appended questions to
a large number of representative and average individuals of both
sexes, various nationalities, creeds, occupations, &c. It would
oblige me if you would be kind enough to further the object of my
inquiry by answering some or all of these questions, and adding
any remarks that may occur to you as bearing upon the subject.
In order to save unnecessary trouble, I may explain that, in
the event of your not caring to answer any of the questions, I
shall not expect you to acknowledge this letter; and that, if
you should reply, answers to many of the questions may be most
briefly furnished by underlining the portion of each, which by
its repetition would serve to convey your answer.
It is needless to add that the names of my correspondents will
not be published.
I am yours very faithfully,
GEORGE J. ROMANES.
(1) Do you regard the prospect of your own death (A) with
indifference, (B) with dislike, (C) with dread, or (D) with
inexpressible horror?
(2) If you entertain any fear of death at all, is the cause
of it (A) prospect of bodily suffering only, (B) dread of the
unknown, (C) idea of loneliness and separation from friends, or
(D) in addition to all or any of these, a peculiar horror of an
indescribable kind?
(3) Is the state of your belief with regard to a future life
that of (A) virtual conviction that there is a future life, (B)
suspended judgment inclining towards such belief, (C) suspended
judgment inclining against such belief, or (D) virtual conviction
that there is no such life?
(4) Is your religious belief, if any, (A) of a vivid order, or
(B) without much practical influence on your life and conduct?
(5) Is your temperament naturally of (A) a courageous or (B) of
a timid order as regards the prospect of bodily pain or mental
distress?
(6) More generally, do you regard your own disposition as (A)
strong, determined, and self-reliant; (B) nervous, shrinking, and
despondent; or (C) medium in this respect?
(7) Should you say that in your character the intellectual or the
emotional predominates? Does your intellect incline to abstract
or concrete ways of thought? Is it theoretical, practical, or
both? Are your emotions of the tender or heroic order, or both?
Are your tastes in any way artistic, and, if so, in what way, and
with what strength?
(8) What is your age or occupation? Can you trace any change in
your feelings with regard to death as having taken place during
the course of your life?
(9) If ever you have been in danger of death, what were the
circumstances, and what your feelings?
(10) Remarks.
(Signature.)[57]