OXFORD
Life had run very smoothly during these years from 1879 to 1890,
only now and then fits of gout had shaken the belief Mr. Romanes
had hitherto felt in his own strength, in his possession of perfect
health.
But about the end of 1889 other signs of ill-health appeared in
the shape of severe headaches; he began to weary of London and the
distractions of London life.
By degrees his thoughts and inclinations turned strongly in the
direction of Oxford. Oxford seemed to satisfy every wish. The
beautiful city gratified his poetic sense; there were old friends
already there to welcome him, and there seemed abundance of
appliances and of facilities for scientific work.
Also the ease with which he could get into the country, the
opportunities for constant exercise, the freedom he would obtain
from councils and committees, were tempting. A beautiful old house
opposite Christ Church was to be had, and this finally determined
him. He fell absolutely in love with Oxford, and brief as his
connection with her was to be, the University has had few more loyal
sons, nor has she ever exercised more complete influence over any who
have fallen under her sway.
It is surprising, as one looks back on the Oxford years, to realise
how short a time Mr. Romanes spent there, and yet it is impossible
not to realise also for how much that time counted in his life.
Many influences were working in him, a ripening judgment, a growth
of character, a deepening sense of the inadequacy of scientific
research, philosophical speculation, and artistic pleasures to fill
'the vacuum in the soul of man which nothing can fill save faith in
God.'[68] And now Oxford, with all the beauty still left to her, with
all the associations which haunt her, with all the extraordinary
witching spell which she knows so well how to exercise--Oxford, the
home of 'lost causes' and also of forward movements, Oxford came to
be for four brief years his home.
1890 opened with the death of Mr. Aubrey Moore. Only a very few
weeks before his too early death, Mr. Moore had been present at the
Aristotelian Society,[69] and had heard the joint papers contributed
by Professor Alexander, the Rev. S. Gildea, and Mr. Romanes on the
'Evidences of Design in Nature.'
Here, again, Mr. Romanes showed how far he had receded from the
materialistic point of view. In his paper he quoted passages from
Aubrey Moore's essay in 'Lux Mundi' (just published), and says:
Yet once more, it may be argued, as it has been argued by a
member of this Society in a recently-published essay--and this an
essay of such high ability that in my opinion it must be ranked
among the very few of the very greatest achievements in the
department of literature to which it belongs--it may, I say, be
argued, as it recently has been argued by the Rev. Aubrey Moore,
that 'the counterpart of the theological belief in the unity and
omnipresence of God is the scientific belief in the unity of
nature and the reign of law'; that 'the evolution which was at
first supposed to have destroyed teleology is found to be more
saturated with teleology than the view which it superseded';
that 'it is a great gain to have eliminated chance, to find
science declaring that there must be a reason for everything,
even when we cannot hazard a conjecture as to what the reason
is'; that 'it seems as if in the providence of God the mission
of modern science was to bring home to our unmetaphysical ways
of thinking the great truth of the Divine immanence in creation,
which is not less essential to the Christian idea of God than
to the philosophical view of nature.' But on the opposite side
it may be represented--as, indeed, Mr. Aubrey Moore himself
expressly allows--that all these deductions are valid only on the
preformed supposition, or belief, 'that God is, and that He is
the rewarder of such as diligently seek Him.' Granting, as Mr.
Aubrey Moore insists, that a precisely analogous supposition,
or belief, is required for the successful study of nature--viz.
'that it is, and that it is a rational (? orderly) whole which
reason can interpret,' still, where the question is as to the
existence of God, or the fact of design, it constitutes no final
answer to show that all these deductions would logically follow
if such an answer were yielded in the affirmative. All that these
deductions amount to is an argument that there is nothing in the
constitution of nature inimical to the hypothesis of design:
beyond this they do not yield any independent verification of
that hypothesis. Innumerable, indeed, are the evidences of design
in nature if once a designer be supposed; but, apart from any
such antecedent supposition, we are without any means of gauging
the validity of such evidence as is presented. And the reason of
this is, that we are without any means of ascertaining what it is
that lies behind, and is itself the cause of, the uniformity of
nature. In other words, we do not know, and cannot discover, what
is the nature of natural causation.
Nevertheless, I think it is a distinct gain, both to the
philosophy and the theology of our age, that science has reduced
the great and old-standing question of Design in Nature to this
comparatively narrow issue. Therefore, I have directed the
purpose of this paper to showing that, in view of the issue to
which science has reduced this question, it cannot be answered on
the lower plane of argument which Mr. Alexander has chosen. All
that has been effected by our recent discovery of a particular
case of causality in the selection principle is to throw back
the question of design, in all the still outstanding provinces
of Nature, to the question--What is the nature of natural
causation? Or, again, to quote Mr. Aubrey Moore, 'Darwinism has
conferred upon philosophy and religion an inestimable benefit by
showing us that we must choose between two alternatives: either
God is everywhere present in Nature, or He is nowhere.' This,
I apprehend, puts the issue into as small a number of words as
it well can be put. And whether God is everywhere or nowhere
depends on what is the nature of natural causation. Is this
intelligent or unintelligent? Is it the mode in which a Divine
Being is everywhere simultaneously and eternally operating; or
is it but the practical expression of what we understand by a
mechanical necessity? In short, is it original or derived--final,
and therefore inexplicable, because self-existing; or is it the
effect of a higher cause in the existence of a disposing Mind?
Although I cannot wait to argue this, the ultimate question which
we have met to consider, I may briefly state my own view with
regard to it. This is the same view that the originator of the
doctrine of natural selection himself used habitually to express
to me in conversation--viz. to use his own words, 'I have long
ago come to the conclusion that it is a question far beyond the
reach of the human mind.' Such, of course, is the position of
pure agnosticism.
At the end of this paper, Mr. Aubrey Moore remarked that he agreed
with all Mr. Alexander's arguments, but disagreed with all his
conclusions, and that he disagreed with all Mr. Gildea's arguments
but agreed with his conclusions; and as for Mr. Romanes, he could
only leave him out, after the kind and flattering terms in which he
had spoken of the essay in 'Lux Mundi.' At the end of his little
speech he said aside to a friend, 'What a fellow Romanes is! "Lux
Mundi" has been out about three weeks, and he knows all about it.'
The friends are lying almost side by side in Holywell,[70] and it
is impossible not to feel that their deaths have left places hard
to fill. About Aubrey Moore, Mr. Romanes wrote some touching words
in the 'Guardian' (he was never afraid to express his admiration,
to wear his heart upon his sleeve). The little notice has now been
reprinted with two others as a Preface to the volume of Mr. Moore's
Essays 'Science and the Faith.'
_To Professor Poulton._
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: January 27, 1890.
My dear Poulton,--Many thanks for your letter, with its very
clear and cogent reasoning. But I am not sure that the latter
does not hit Weismann harder than it hits me. For the cases you
have in view are those where very recently acquired characters
are concerned; and where, therefore, according to my views, 'the
force of heredity' is weak and thus quickly 'worn out.' In such
cases (as I say in the last passages of enclosed, which I return
for you to hand me on Friday) 'cessation will (_quickly_) ensure
the reduction of an unused organ below fifty per cent, of its
original size, and so on down to zero; but this it does because
it is now assisted by another and co-operating principle--viz.
the eventual failure of heredity.'
Now it is just this co-operating principle that Weismann is
debarred from recognising by his dogma about 'stability of
germ-plasm.' And it is a principle that must act the more
energetically (_i.e._ 'quickly') the shorter the time since the
now degenerating organ was originally acquired. In the 'Nature'
articles I was speaking of 'rudimentary organs' which in Darwin's
sense are very old heirlooms. All this to make you reconsider
whether there is any disagreement between us upon this point.
It is, indeed, a terrible thing about Aubrey Moore, and also a
loss to Darwinism on its popular side.
G. J. R.
February 16, 1890.
After receiving your letter this day a month ago, it occurred to
me that I had better write an article in 'Nature' on Panmixia,
pointing out the resemblances and the differences between
Weismann's statement of the principle and mine. Shortly after
sending it in, Weismann's answer to Vines appeared, and from this
it seems that he has modified his views upon the subject. For
while in his essays he says that 'the complete disappearance of a
rudimentary organ can only take place by the operation of natural
selection' (_i.e._ reversal of selection through economy, &c.),
in 'Nature' he says, 'Organs no longer in use become rudimentary,
and must finally disappear, solely by Panmixia.' Thus, the same
facts are attributed at one time 'only' to the _presence_ of
selection, and at another time 'solely' to its _absence_.
Now, the latter view seems exactly the same as mine, if it
means (as I suppose it must) that the cessation of selection
ultimately leads to a failure of heredity. (How about stability
of germ-plasm here?) The time during which the force of heredity
will persist, when thus merely left to itself, will vary with the
original strength of this force, which, in turn, will presumably
vary with the length of time that the organ has previously been
inherited. Thus, differences of merely _specific_ value (to
which you allude in your letter) will quickly disappear under
cessation of selection, while 'vestiges' of _class_ value are
long-enduring. The point to be clear about is that the cessation
of selection (in my view) entails _two_ consequences, which
are _quite distinct_. First, a comparatively small amount of
reduction due to promiscuous variability round an average which,
however, will be a continuously sinking average if the cessation
is assisted by a reversal of selection; and second, later on, a
failure of the form of heredity itself.
Touching the first of the two consequences you say that
'variations below or away from the standard would not be balanced
by those above, because the standard was reached by the selection
of such an extremely minute fraction of _all_ variations which
occurred.' But can variations in the matter of increase or
decrease take place in more than two directions, up or down,
smaller and larger, better or worse? (Read Wallace, 'Darwinism,'
pp. 143-4.)
I write this in view of the lecture you say you are going to
give, because I do not know when 'Nature' will bring out my
article.
March 20, 1890.
It might perhaps be well for you to read the type-written reply
which I have prepared to Wallace's criticism on 'physiological
selection.' But this is for you to consider. He has fallen into
some errors of great carelessness, not only with regard to my
paper, but also to that of Mr. Gulick, whose theory of 'segregate
fecundity' is the same as mine. On this account I am able to
upset the whole criticism, and, bottom upwards, to show that it
really supports the theory.
I see 'Nature' of this week contains my letter on Panmixia, and
hope it will define in your and other minds the outs and ins of
the matter.
Please return the enclosed, which I send as a fact that may
interest you.
_To Professor J. C. Ewart._
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: April 27, 1890.
As Ethel has already told you, I believe, we have taken a three
years' lease of a charming old house, and let this one for a
corresponding period. It is a very old house in Oxford, having
been built by Cardinal Wolsey. It is immediately opposite Tom
Tower of Christ Church, and full of old oak--walls, floors, and
ceilings of the principal rooms being nothing else.
I do wish you could come up before we begin operations, to give
us the benefit of your advice how so splendid an opportunity in
the way of decoration should be utilised. We have to get out of
this house, with all our furniture, on or before May 20. The
children and servants will then go to Geanies, while my wife and
I will go to Oxford to begin the decorations.
I am preparing my lectures on Darwinism for the press, so that
they may be ready for publication on the last day of my course
at Edinburgh in November. I suppose I have your permission to
reproduce your R.S. pictures of electric organs? Also, could you
send me for a day or two Haddon's book on Embryology?
I have just heard that Charles Lister (whom I think you met at
Geanies) has died of fever in Brazil, where he was zoologising.
Yours ever sincerely,
GEO. J. ROMANES.
[Illustration: 94 ST. ALDATE'S]
The move was made from London to Oxford in May 1890. Mr. Romanes
incorporated with the University and became a member of Christ
Church. This connection with 'the House' was a great pleasure to him.
For a little while during the early summer of 1890 Mr. Romanes was
alone in Oxford, and he writes:
_To Mrs. Romanes._
I called to-day on Mr. Dodgson, to sign my name in the Common
Room, and signed my name in the book where the signatures go
back to the foundation of the House. It is certainly the best
thing I could have done to join Christ Church, and I am enjoying
this return to my undergraduate days as something quite novel.
Yesterday Liddon[71] graced the high table with his company.
He was particularly gracious to me, remembering all about our
meeting years ago, and hoping to be allowed to have the pleasure
of calling upon us when we were settled in the 'almshouse.'[72]
After dinner in the Common Room, seeing that the party was both
elderly and reverend, all the other six being parsons, I started
what seemed to me a suitable game, viz. who could best 'card
wool' in opposite directions, or turn the right hand round and
round one way, while at the same time turning the left hand round
and round the other way. This innocent occupation at once became
very popular--the Canon in particular being greatly interested
in the peculiar difficulty which it presents. For my own part, I
much enjoyed the spectacle of all these dons winding their hands
about, and this enjoyment reached its climax when Dr. Liddon
ended by tilting his glass of claret off the table into his lap.
But there is a good deal of fun from behind his serious exterior,
and he enjoyed this little catastrophe as much as the rest of us.
So you see that the snares and temptations of University life do
not dangerously assail your husband at the high table of Christ
Church.
Yesterday we had our physiological picnic, starting in five
boats, and taking tea on the river-bank near the old farmhouse.
I took supper with the Sandersons, who had a party. The Victor
Horsleys were at the picnic, and I have arranged that they will
pay us a visit in October.
It is very jolly living in this house, but it is well we are
both good sleepers, the noise of traffic is so great, even the
foot-passengers sound like burglars.
But this will not affect the children in the other wing, and as
for me, I could sleep if the carriages were driving through the
rooms, with the burglars to boot.
I have only time to write a very few lines, as I am now
momentarily expecting to be called on to give my exposition
before the Physiological Society,[73] which has mustered in
considerable force, and is now being regaled by Horsley[74] and
Gotch[75] while I am watching my plants which are coming on next.
The dinner at Ch. Ch. yesterday was most enjoyable, though there
were only four others besides myself at the high table. We had
turtle soup and very good wine; is that good for gout?
St. Aldate's: July 1, 1890.
I have just come back from dinner. My next neighbour to-night was
Liddon, and we had a long talk on the ethics of suicide regarded
from the pre-Christian or purely 'secular' point of view.
I also improved the occasion in the interests of ----. It was
clearly a new light to Liddon that ---- should be so highly
thought of by a man of science, and he appeared to have
determined there and then to exert himself in getting a more
suitable berth for 'a man now so greatly needed in the Church.'
Oxford.
Two bits of news. Dunstan[76] has a son and Liddon is seriously
ill. Dr. John Ogle came yesterday afternoon from town to see him,
and dined with us. There is great pain in the neck.
I lunched with the Sandersons, or rather with Mrs. Sanderson, as
the Professor did not leave his room, but he is getting on very
well.
Last night after dinner I looked in at the Poultons, and
found them entertaining two Natural Science young ladies from
Somerville Hall. A very agreeable party. Huxley is expected here
this week. His article on 'Lux Mundi' is very characteristic.[77]
It would be very enjoyable to go with you to Ober Ammergau, but
I am sure I ought not. First, I should not enjoy it half so much
as you; second, it would double the expense; third, it would run
away with all the time I want to give to the book. So in this
case what is sauce for the goose is not sauce for the gander.
I wish I had some jokes to treasure up, but Oxford is not a
joke-yielding place at present; Geanies must be jubilation itself
compared with Oxford now.
I am the sole occupant of the laboratory as of the house. But I
rather enjoy the exclusive privilege of my own company, save so
far as it is relieved by guinea-pigs. I have written a letter to
'Nature' which will furnish a little joke for you on Friday next.
I am sorry to hear poor old Parker[78] is dead. You did not know
him, but he was a real good fellow, and hearty friend to me.
I enjoyed my three days in London very much. Went twice to the
theatre, and one of the plays was 'Judah.' Mr. H. A. Jones gave
me a box. Saw a great deal of the Pollocks; met Scott,[79] who
asked me to let him put me up for Royal Society Club; played
chess with G. R. Turner.
I have now got to work on my plants and guinea-pigs.
_To Professor Poulton._
Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: July 16, 1890.
My dear Poulton,--I went to the tennis ground yesterday week,
but, as I expected, on account of the rain, found nobody there.
I now write to ask you if you would have any objection to my
borrowing with acknowledgment figures from your book for mine,
supposing the publishers also consent. In particular figs. 1, 2,
6, 10, 40, and 41.
Having now read the book,[80] I may say how greatly it has
delighted me. The whole is a wonderful story, and I congratulate
you on the large share which you have had in adding to this
chapter of Darwinism.
There is only one point I am not quite clear about, viz. pp.
213-215. It is doubtless an advantage to the parasites that
the caterpillars should warn them off as having been already
'occupied.' But would not this be rather a _disadvantage_ to
the caterpillars--_i.e._ to their _species_? For in this way,
it seems to me, a greater number of caterpillars would become
infested than would be the case in the absence of such warning.
Or is there any point about it which I do not understand?
When is your next book coming out? I should like you to read
my reply to Wallace before it does. Also my re-statement of
physiological selection, with discussion on the principles
of Segregation and Divergence. I hope the whole will be in
type before November. Can you wait till then, or shall I send
type-written MSS.?
Yours very sincerely,
GEORGE J. ROMANES.
P.S.--Talking about hon. degrees the last time I saw you reminded
me--but something again put it out of my head--that I had been
wondering why Oxford or Cambridge does not offer one to F.
Galton. Could you start a movement in that direction?...
I am getting so convinced about physiological selection, that I
do not care what is said at random, or without understanding the
theory.
Later in the autumn he writes:
_To Mrs. Romanes._
I hope to find letters from Ober Ammergau when I return to
Geanies, with a dozen bottles of sulphur water and several
pounds of heather honey. Went yesterday to see a waterfall,
which was wonderfully beautiful; on the way back met a pony with
half a trap, and afterwards came on the other half with its
previous occupants, Lord and Lady ----, cut about the face, but
not seriously hurt. There is an awful row going on here in the
Free Kirk, which bids fair to end in bloodshed locally, if not
disruption generally.
I am so glad you do not repent going, and am longing to
hear what you think of the play. I took Ethel and Ernest
partridge-shooting, and had tea outside. The new hound, 'Dart,'
has arrived. He is beautiful, and as gentle as a lamb with the
children. This threw us off our guard, and at tea there was a
horrible scene, ending in the murder of Sharpe.[81] The latter
barked at him, and five minutes afterwards was a mangled misery.
Have returned Dart with a civil note, for the sake of Norah and
Jack,[82] the latter having only been saved by heroic measures on
the part of Mytsie.
Later in the autumn he wrote:
_To Mrs. Henry Pollock._
Geanies: October 9, 1890.
My dear Mentor,--The lyric is certainly very pretty, but I am
still--and much--more touched by the unrhymed, and perhaps
unconscious, poetry that accompanies it. We have, indeed, many
associations with Geanies in common;[83] and as neither the joys
nor the sorrows of them can ever return into our lives as they
were when they arose, it is perhaps better that they should be
kept in our memories as they now are, without being overlaid by
future experiences in the same moods and the same cliffs by the
same sea. 'The water that has passed' has been beautiful, even in
its sadness; and however long the wheel of life may still have to
go, I do not think it could have done better work for any of us
than during the years that it has gone at Geanies.
With my philosophic love to both of you, ever the same,
GEO. J. ROMANES.
My very dear Mentor,--You are quite too kind to me. The touching
little present has just arrived, and I am smoking it now. It
is just the kind that I like best. I wonder whether the vendor
thought it was for yourself? Very many thanks.
Ethel sends her love, and tells me to ask you whether you want a
copy of the photo group, where you do not look like a Mentor.
I enclose payment for the pipe in the form of sonnets--although
I am sure they are not so sweet--and remain, with love to Marion,
Ever yours most sincerely,
GEO. J. ROMANES.
This autumn Mr. Romanes delivered the last of his Edinburgh course of
lectures. Giving the lectures had been a real pleasure, and he liked
his Scotch students, who on their side were keenly appreciative and
intelligent.
He was alone at Geanies for a few days before leaving for Edinburgh,
and a letter written at this time shows for the first time a
foreboding of failing health; but when the headaches left him the
foreboding vanished, and there was no real idea of serious mischief.
_To his Wife._
Geanies: November 1890.
I really have three of your dear letters to answer. I did not
write yesterday. I have had one continuous headache; it is now
nearly away, but the matter is getting serious, and I have
written to Edward,[84] to send the 'home trainer' to Oxford, so
that I may lose no time in giving his cure (exercise) a trial.
Don't get low about me; I begin to doubt if these headaches are
due to gout at all, and somehow or other I shall find a means of
preventing them.
I am sorry for myself, my work, and most of all for you; but we
must take illness as it comes, and be glad it is no worse.
Geanies: October 31.
I will not disappoint you about the sonnet, which you expect to
be in the vein of 'Weltschmerz,' and therefore send you the first
of the series which I wrote in the small hours, after reading
your favourite Psalm.[85] There was only one verse that remained
appropriate to me, so I took it as a text.
The principal thing that has happened to-day is my having seen on
the shore a sea otter. It was lying on a rock, and I came upon it
at such close quarters I could have hit it with a stone. But it
was so quick that I had not even time to fire my gun.
I may return the compliment as to letters. I did not intend to
send the sonnet even to you when I wrote it, but afterwards
thought I ought to have no secrets.
Fritz[86] and Ernest came out shooting. I am all right as to
hitting;[87] and my head is perfectly well. Jack[88] has been
very Jackish. I told him we were all going to leave Geanies. He
said, 'Geanies belongs to us.' I answered, 'No, it belongs to
the Murrays.' 'Part of it belongs to me,' he continued. 'How
is that?' said I. 'Because I was born here.' What would Victor
Horsley say to this for early appreciation of rights conferred by
birth?
Ernest and Gerald are very happy. I allow them to play with the
fire when they are with me, and this I find to be very popular.
_To Mrs. Romanes._
Edinburgh: November 23, 1890.
My lectures are now concluded, and I took an affectionate
farewell of the class amid much enthusiasm on their side.
There is no news to give. I play chess with Mrs. Butcher and read
MSS. which Professor Butcher lends me of his own; pay many calls,
have sundry talks with professors that come to dine with Ewart,
and so on.
Yesterday we had here what at Cambridge used to be called a
'Perpendicular,' twenty students to supper. Mrs. Butcher and Miss
Trench came in to help to entertain them; the latter sang Irish
songs.
I am going to give an additional lecture to the class on the
controversy in 'Nature.'[89]
I send you a report of my lecture, that you may see how orthodox
I was. Sellar[90] was at the lecture, and told me that I reminded
him of some professor at St. Andrews, who had told him as a
fact that he (the St. Andrews professor) always made a point of
alluding to Providence in an introductory lecture, and afterwards
'threw him aside!'
The sonnet alluded to in one of the letters (p. 265) is so beautiful
that it is inserted here. It shows better than any words could do the
attitude of George Romanes' mind. Profoundly sincere, anxious, almost
unduly anxious, to give no indulgence to his own longings, to state
to himself and to others unsparingly, unflinchingly, what appeared to
him the as yet irrefutable arguments against the Faith, when he was
alone he relaxed and poured out his inmost heart.
'I ask not for Thy love, O Lord: the days
Can never come when anguish shall atone.
Enough for me were but Thy pity shown,
To me as to the stricken sheep that strays,
With ceaseless cry for unforgotten ways--
O lead me back to pastures I have known,
Or find me in the wilderness alone,
And slay me, as the hand of mercy slays.
I ask not for Thy love; nor e'en so much
As for a hope on Thy dear breast to lie;
But be Thou still my shepherd--still with such
Compassion as may melt to such a cry;
That so I hear Thy feet, and feel Thy touch,
And dimly see Thy face ere yet I die.'
In November Mr. Romanes came formally into residence, and at first
nothing could have been happier than his Oxford life.
He simply revelled in the facilities for work which the splendidly
equipped laboratories afforded, and he once said, 'that the
laboratory alone had made the move from London to Oxford worth while!'
He set to work on his book, 'Darwin, and after Darwin,' and on many
experiments bearing on Professor Weismann's theories and on some
other points.
He much wished to see established in Oxford what M. Giard has called
an _Institut transformiste_, and wrote to many leading men of science
on the subject. As yet the idea has come to nothing, but possibly it
may be revived.
January 22, 1891.
My dear Poulton,--I am very sorry that, being already engaged for
to-morrow, I cannot attend the meeting. But I should like to
join the Society.[91] Only, please, postpone any suggestion about
lecturing, as this term I shall be dreadfully busy, between the
book and the experiments. H. has certainly been very successful
over a very difficult experiment. I tried it in an elaborate way.
But I lacked assistance for the mechanical performance, and so
intended to do it here this term. Now I am saved the trouble,
but have gained experience. This prevents me from regarding H.'s
result as final, although, as you say, valuable. My scepticism is
founded on a queer freak of heredity, which my own work showed
me; but as I think I spoke too much about the experiments I was
trying, in future I shall adopt Weismann's method of silence
before publication.
Yours ever,
GEO. J. ROMANES.
About this time Mr. Romanes was much interested in a scheme for
promoting the establishment of a garden or farm for the purpose
of studying questions of hereditary transmission, or heredity.
His object was to afford facilities which at present do not
exist for observing the modifications produced in animals and
plants by subjecting them during long periods and in successive
generations to suitable external conditions, and for testing the
transmissibility of the modifications so produced. He was anxious
that such an Institution should be founded in connection with one
of the Universities, and with this view, circulated the following
memorandum.
'AN INSTITUT TRANSFORMISTE.'
In an English translation of a lecture which was recently
delivered by M. Giard, as Professor of Evolutionary Biology in
France, there occurs the following passage:
'If evolutionists must content themselves in most cases with
experiments carried on in nature, or those of breeders, instead
of applying themselves to verifications made with all the
rigour of modern scientific precision, is it not because of the
deplorable insufficiency of our laboratories? It is astonishing
that in no country, not even where science is held in greatest
honour, does there yet exist an _Institut transformiste_ devoted
to the long and costly experiments now indispensable for the
progress of evolutionary biology.'
That an institution of the kind in question would tend to promote
the solution of problems in 'evolutionary biology,' it seems
needless to argue. Many of the most desirable experiments in
heredity and variation, for example, require such prolonged time
and such constant attention, that it is practically impossible
for individual workers to undertake them; and, therefore, as
M. Giard observes, they have never been undertaken. But if
there were an _Institut transformiste_ to which material might
be sent from any part of the world, with directions as to its
treatment, biologists of all countries would be furnished with an
opportunity of experimentally testing any ideas which might occur
to them in regard to these or kindred matters.
Again, it seems needless to remark that England ought to be
regarded as the natural territory of an establishment of this
character; that the establishment itself should be situated in
the vicinity of others which are already devoted to the study of
morphology and physiology; and that sufficient land should belong
to the _Institut_ to admit of plots of ground being set apart for
researches on plants, as well as buildings for the accommodation
of animals.
In order to satisfy all these conditions, the _Institut_ ought to
be established either in Oxford or Cambridge; and at least, one
skilled naturalist, one competent gardener, and one trustworthy
keeper ought to be resident. This would involve an annual
expenditure of between 300_l._ and 400_l._ But the capital sum
which would have to be sunk in the purchase of land and the
erection of buildings would not be considerable; because, in
the first instance, at all events, two or three acres of ground
would probably be sufficient; while the animal houses would be
chiefly--if not exclusively--required for the accommodation of
small mammalia, birds, insects, and aquatic organisms.
Nevertheless, seeing that an initial expenditure of at least
1,000_l._ would be needed for the purposes just mentioned, as
well as an annual income of at least 400_l._, and seeing that
even this much money is not likely to be forthcoming for objects
of a purely scientific nature, the scheme on behalf of which we
solicit your opinion is the following.
From inquiries which we have made here, we think it is probable
that the University would take up the matter, or, at any rate,
render important assistance thereto, if the Hebdomadal Council
were satisfied as to the desirability of the project from a
scientific point of view. It is on this account that we have
ventured to address you upon the subject. The appended memorial
is being sent, together with this circular letter, to all the
other leading biologists in this country; and if you could see
your way to signing the former, you would render additional
weight to the body of authoritative opinion which it will
eventually convey to the University.
One of the experiments Mr. Romanes tried in the summers of 1891-93
was as to whether animals completely isolated would reproduce
the _real_ sounds natural to their kind. In other words, whether
these vocal sounds were due to imitation. Through the kindness of
Mr. Arthur Balfour, Mr. Romanes got the permission of the Trinity
Brethren to try these experiments on lighthouses situated on lonely
islands or rocks; he selected puppies, chickens, &c., but the results
were not decisive. The puppies barked and the young cocks crowed,
but Mr. Romanes was not able entirely to establish to his own
satisfaction that the isolation had been complete.
Experiments were also carried on bearing on Heliotropism and on Seed
Germination. Of these mention will be made later.
In the spring of 1891, he paid a visit to Paris and saw M. Pasteur
and his laboratory, and also M. Brown-Séquard, in whose work he was
specially interested.
And, apart from his work, Oxford and Oxford life were great sources
of enjoyment. He made many new friends, and keenly enjoyed the
institution, so characteristic of Oxford, of 'walks.'
Intimacies seemed to grow up quickly, and he often spoke of the
extreme kindliness, the 'pleasantness' which marked Oxford society.
Of all the friends made in these four years, Mr. Romanes undoubtedly
was most drawn to the Rev. Charles Gore.
It is very difficult, very often misleading and even impertinent
to speak of what one man owes to another in the way of direct or
indirect intellectual or spiritual help. But those few persons who
really watched and could see the workings of George Romanes' mind,
saw that these Oxford years were, even before the first beginnings of
fatal illness, years of rapid growth in what perhaps may be termed
spiritual perception.
In 1891 Mr. Gore's famous Bampton Lectures were preached. Mr. Romanes
heard them all, and was intensely interested by them; he wrote many
notes on them for his own private use, notes by no means always in
agreement with them, and in his 'Thoughts on Religion' he refers to
them.
Many of his older friends were clergymen, and he was once much amused
by hearing that a scientific friend in London had said, 'How on earth
will Romanes stand the clerical atmosphere of Oxford?' Another time,
a very eminent scientific man asked him his opinion of Liberal High
Churchmen, 'Do you really think these people believe what they say?'
to which Mr. Romanes replied that he knew several pretty intimately,
and he was sure they would all go to the stake on behalf of their
Faith.
In the spring of 1891 Mr. Romanes was elected by the committee a
member of the Athenæum Club. The Journal notes:
Pleasant dinners at Merton, Keble, &c. Visit from the Gills,[92]
which we much enjoyed. Lord and Lady Compton, from the 6th to the
8th of June. He delighted us with his magnificent singing.
This summer, for the first time, Scotland and shooting were given up,
and Mr. Romanes, accompanied by his wife and daughter, tried what the
Engadine would do for his incessant headaches.
He enjoyed this tour, especially three weeks at Tarasp, in the lower
Engadine, where he met his old friend Professor Joachim and also
Professor Victor Carus. On the way back the Romanes stayed with Mr.
H. Graham, M.P., at his lovely country home near Heidelberg, enjoying
themselves much, but failing to see the famous ghost which is said
to haunt the place. In the autumn, in spite of often-recurring
headaches, he struggled on with his work and lectured in one or two
provincial towns.
He says in one of his letters at this time: 'There is much excitement
in Oxford to-day over the announcement that Paget is to be the new
Dean of Christ Church. Of course we are greatly delighted. As he said
to me to-day, 'We may now look forward to being close neighbours for
not a few years to come.'
_Journal, Nov., Birmingham Festival._--The 'Messiah' and Dvorak's
'Requiem,' Parry's 'Blest Pair of Sirens,' which one never hears
too often. Went to Compton Wynyates, a splendid old house of
temp. Henry VII. Only Lady Compton at home, but we much enjoyed
our little visit. Went up to town and saw the Edmund Gosses and
various other old friends. Saw Miss Rehan and her company in
their last performance, 'A Last Word.' Poor play, but well acted.
It was during this autumn that Mr. Romanes resolved to found a
lectureship at Oxford on the lines of the Rede Lectures at Cambridge,
and after consulting various friends, chiefly the present Master
of Pembroke,[93] the idea was submitted to the University and the
offer was accepted. The preface, which is to be prefixed to the first
volume of Lectures, gives the founder's ideas.
_Founder's Preface._
The primary object of this Lectureship is to secure a perpetual
series of discourses in the University of Oxford under the
conditions laid down in the foregoing Statute. But seeing that
these conditions are necessarily of a general character, I add
the following suggestions with regard to certain matters of
detail, in order that, as far as from time to time may seem
expedient, the proceedings may be conducted in accordance with my
wishes.
(1) I desire that the selection of lecturers be irrespective
of nationality, and determined with reference either (_a_) to
general eminence in art, literature, or science, or (_b_) to
special claims for discussing any particular subject of high
interest at the time.
(2) I deem it desirable that foreigners, otherwise eligible,
should not be disqualified from receiving invitations to lecture
merely because they may not be able to do so in English. And, in
order to meet such cases, I suggest that the translated addresses
should be delivered before the University by some competent
reader (to be selected by the Vice-Chancellor) in the presence of
their authors.
(3) I further suggest that the same method of delivery should be
adopted in cases where age or infirmity would render the voice
of the lecturer inaudible, or indistinct, to any portion of his
audience. And I hope that neither age nor infirmity, any more
than inability to speak the English language, will be deemed
a hindrance to the issuing of invitations to the men of high
distinction in their several departments. For, on the one hand,
in order to have attained such distinction, it must often happen
that such men will have attained old age, while, on the other
hand, it is of more importance that they should be represented in
these decennial volumes than that men of less eminence should be
chosen in view of their superiority as lecturers.
G. J. ROMANES.
To the great satisfaction of the whole University, Mr. Gladstone most
generously consented to give the first lecture, which consent he
signified in the following letter:
Grand Hotel. Biarritz: December 18, 1891.
Dear Mr. Romanes,--Until I received your kind letter I reposed
undoubtingly in the belief that the Vice-Chancellor had accepted
my answer as the answer which best met the case.[94] I thought
and think it right, for no one knows my poverty except myself.
But Oxford is Oxford, and I think that if she desired me to climb
up the spire of Salisbury, I should attempt it, or play the
_Græculus esuriens_ in any manner she desired. Your letter opens
to me unexpectedly the fact that there is a desire, and that the
proposal was not simply a courtesy.
I therefore thankfully and respectfully accept; secretly relying
a good deal, as I own, on the fact that there is (if I recollect
the V.C.'s letter rightly) a good deal of time before me,
and that the chances of intermediate reflection may bring up
something to the surface which is not now there, for I own my
perplexity continues as to the chance of making any presentation
not wholly worthless. But enough of this: and let me thank you
very much for the interest you, who have so high a title, have
personally taken in bringing me to the front.
We are much delighted with this place; more eminently, I think, a
sea place than any other I happen to know.
I am sure, let me add, that you will make my apologies to the
Vice-Chancellor; for I am sensible that the altered reply may
seem less than respectful to the resident Head of the University.
Believe me, most faithfully yours,
W. E. GLADSTONE.
It had been arranged that the lectures (which the University, rather
against the Founder's wish, decided should be called the 'Romanes
Lectures') were to be given in the Trinity Term, but owing to the
General Election of 1891, Mr. Gladstone postponed the delivery of his
inaugural lecture until October 1892.
_Journal, March 1892._--The Comptons have been here for Norman's
baptism, which was a strikingly pretty ceremony in cathedral at
evening service with the choir. Our Dean and the President of
Magdalen, as well as Lady Compton, stood sponsors, so the boy
is well provided. The students at St. Hugh's Hall decorated the
font, and as the boy's second name is Hugh, he is a special
protégé of the little Hall.
_April 1._--We spent a week at Malvern, in company with the
Walter Hobhouses, and then went on to Denton Manor,[95] where
a company of the wise, including Ray Lankester, Professors
Poulton and Shadworth Hodgson, and Mr. Sully, were. Also others,
including Lady Cecil Scott Montagu, who walked abroad with a
divining rod, a real act of courage considering who were among
the party.
At Malvern Mr. Romanes wrote a sonnet which, in the light of after
years, was a sad prophecy.
_MALVERN_ 1892
'To doze upon a sunny hill in June,
And hear the lullaby that Nature lends;
To drink the cup that sweet contentment blends
With sweetlier love of those whose hearts shall soon
Reverberate with joy, as they attune
Their praise to praises that achievement sends:
This is to feel that bounteous Nature bends
A mother's smile on manhood in its noon.
But when the shadows of the twilight come,
And high Ambition needs must fold his wings,
While voices both of hearts and hills grow dumb,
Can she still bring the smile that now she brings?
Yea, by the memory of brighter things,
I'll trust her in the night that calls me home.'
_Journal, May and June 1892._--Had a delightful visit from the
Butchers and Mr. H. Graham, later on the Comptons, and Mr. Edmund
Gosse, full of witty and wise sayings. Lord Compton sang more
divinely than ever, and the Principal of Brasenose played the
piano. It was a real musical feast.
Professor Le Conte came to stay here, we had Mr. Gore and one or
two others to meet him.
_To Miss C. E. Romanes._
94 St. Aldate's, Oxford: June 10, 1892.
My dearest Charlotte,--I received your letter of the 6th inst.,
together with the pair of slippers; the latter are the very thing
that is required when occasion again arises.
Ever since you left we have been having Italian weather, the only
objection to which being, that for my taste the sunshine is too
continuous.
We have had staying with us Professor Palgrave and his daughter.
I am going to take her to the Conversazione of the Royal Society
on Wednesday next, as Ethel is going to stay behind for her
political work. We have also had Lord Justice Fry, with his wife
and daughter, staying with us for two or three days.
I have got a promise from Professor Huxley to give the second
Romanes Lecture, provided he is able to do so next year. It will
be an interesting occasion if he can, because he has not lectured
for the last five or six years.
I am glad you like my book, which is selling off very well; but,
as you know, the second volume will be much more interesting.
We are all well, and, with united love to both, I remain yours
ever the same,
GEO. J. ROMANES.
A new investigation is here described.
94 St. Aldate's, Oxford: March 27, 1892.
My dear Schäfer,--I think I have found a new ordinal character
peculiar to the Primates--viz. a nude condition of the terminal
phalanges. This does not occur in any other order of mammals that
I have looked at, but in all species of primates from Lemurs to
Man, as far, at all events, as I have been able to examine. Now I
want to see whether hair-follicles, or vestiges thereof, can be
found in the terminal phalanges of any species of the order. So
I am making a number of sections of the skin of the backs of the
terminal phalanges of fingers and toes, of man (adult and fœtal)
apes, monkeys, baboons, and lemurs. Hitherto I cannot detect
(nor can Kent) any signs or vestiges of follicles. But I should
much like you to look over some of the specimens (a few would be
enough), in order to see whether your trained eyes would be also
unable to trace any rudiments of follicles. If you would care to
do this, of course I should acknowledge my obligations in a paper
which I am preparing on the subject.
Yours very truly,
G. J. ROMANES.
'Darwin, and after Darwin' appeared in the spring of 1892.
It was a book which was written, so to speak, with the writer's
life-blood, it was a great burden on him from the moment he commenced
it, and one of his greatest sorrows was his inability to finish it.
It is curious to those who know Mr. Romanes' mind intimately to
note the exceeding severity, the almost harsh manner in which he
treated the theological questions involved in the doctrines called,
for convenience sake, 'Darwinism.' As more and more he found himself
yielding on the side of emotion, of moral convictions, inducement,
of spiritual need to the relinquished faith, so much the more did
he resolve to be utterly true, to face every difficulty, to push no
objection aside, to leave nothing unsaid--to be, in fact, absolutely
and entirely honest. As a friend after his death, speaking of this
very book, said, 'It was his _righteousness_ which made him seem so
hard.'
Yet there is a ring of hope of something which will one day turn to
faith in the words which end the book:
'Upon the whole, then, it seems to me that such evidence as we
have is against rather than in favour of the inference, that if
design be operative in animate nature it has reference to animal
enjoyment or well-being, as distinguished from animal improvement
or evolution. And if this result should be found distasteful to
the religious mind--if it be felt that there is no desire to
save the evidences of design unless they serve at the same time
to testify to the nature of that design as beneficent--I must
once more observe that the difficulty thus presented to theism
is not a difficulty of modern creation. On the contrary, it has
always constituted the fundamental difficulty with which natural
theologians have had to contend. The external world appears,
in this respect, to be at variance with our moral sense; and
when the antagonism is brought home to the religious mind, it
must ever be with a shock of terrified surprise. It has been
newly brought home to us by the generalisations of Darwin, and
therefore, as I said at the beginning, the religious thought
of our generation has been more than ever staggered by the
question--Where is now thy God? But I have endeavoured to show
that the logical standing of the case has not been materially
changed; and when this cry of reason pierces the heart of Faith
it remains for Faith to answer now, as she always answered
before--and answered with that trust which is at once her beauty
and her life--Verily thou art a God that hidest Thyself.'
June 1892 brought the first warnings of serious illness. One day Mr.
Romanes announced at lunch that he noticed a blind spot in one eye.
He consulted his friend Mr. Doyne, the well-known oculist, who from
the first thought seriously of the case.
He went up to town, and saw various doctors, and had some thoughts
of taking a voyage. He was, however, well enough to attend the
Conversazione at the Royal Society, and showed some experiments on
rabbits and rats which bore on questions of acquired characters. He
writes:
_To Mrs. Romanes._
I have been thinking of you a great deal, and, with a somewhat
literal application of a certain expletive addressed by a fast
man to his eyes, am driven to address you through my goggles.
Nettleship has appointed to-morrow morning to see me, so I shall
not be able to get home sooner than 6 train. Don't trouble to
meet me, as I must take a cab for the rabbits and rats. The
latter are now at the Royal Society, where ample space has
been provided for their exhibition. The Zoological paper[96]
went off very well, and Flower made a very good remark on it,
the substance of which I will tell you when we meet, it had
not previously occurred to me. Your letter to the Pollocks
never reached them, so they had given me up. They were as
enthusiastically kind as usual, and very sympathetic about my
eyes.
He returned to Oxford, and was persuaded to rest, and not to go to
London again to pay a promised visit to Professor Palgrave.
_To Miss C. E. Romanes._
94 St. Aldate's, Oxford: June 18, 1892.
My dearest Charlotte,--Your little differences of opinion with
regard to the rats are very amusing to me, and I quite see how
the matter stands.
I am very glad to hear of your improvement in general health,
and also of James' continued vigour. As regards myself I have
no very satisfactory account to give. The headaches indeed are
not worse--if anything they are better; but the gout is at work
on other parts of this vile body, and the latest assault is a
very serious one for a man of my pursuits. About ten days ago I
found myself partially blind in the right eye--the upper half of
the field of vision being totally obliterated. I have seen an
Oxford and also a London oculist, who have both examined the eye
and pronounce the sudden seizure to be one of serous effusion
upon the retina. It seems probable that the impairment of vision
will be permanent, and so prevent all operative work where any
delicacy is required. The blindness is so complete, that if I
look about an inch below the electric light placed at a distance
of a very few yards, I am not able to perceive any luminosity.
Meanwhile, I have to wear the darkest of possible goggles, and
generally to live the life of a blind man. _Per contra_, this may
prove a blessing in disguise, as it compels me to abstain from
work for some considerable time to come, and I had been advised
to this course on account of the headaches. How I am to spend the
six months' rest which is prescribed I have not yet determined.
Shooting will be probably out of the question, as I cannot use
the left eye in any form of recreation. My idea is rather to
go to Egypt and Palestine, to take a voyage to the Cape, or in
some other such way to break my usual habits without altogether
wasting time.
All the rest of the household are flourishing, and with love to
both,
I remain yours ever the same,
GEORGE.
In a day or two a second blind spot appeared, and now the doctors
took a very serious view of his case. Life and sight alike were
threatened, and instant rest and quiet were ordered. For about
three weeks he remained in bed, until the extreme pulse tension was
reduced, and then it seemed as if hope might be entertained of years
of life, if only care were taken about diet, and work, and thought.
Now began the two years of quiet, steadfast, endurance; no one could
realise from his quiet manner and cheerful talk how great was the
inconvenience caused by the affection of his eyes, no one ever found
him anything but unselfish and gentle. The one difficulty was to
persuade him not to work, and this was almost impossible. He was
almost feverishly anxious to finish his book, to work out experiments
he had been planning; and as time went on, and he thought and
pondered as he had ever done on the ultimate mysteries of life and
being, other books were planned, other courses of reading mapped out.
Just then a letter came from Canon Scott-Holland which much touched
the recipient.
Mr. Holland writes:
'I hear sad news of you through Philip Waggett.[97] You have
passed under the sorest trial perhaps that could have been laid
on your courage, your hopefulness, your peace.
I trust, indeed, that there is much to look for yet of recovered
power and renewed work, but, for the moment, there must be
anxiety, and the bitter strain of disappointment, and the rough
curb of pain. You are assured of the deep sympathy of many
warmhearted friends to whom you have always shown most generous
kindness, and I venture to rank myself among them. We shall
remember you often and anxiously.
It is a tremendous moment when first one is called upon to join
the great army of those who suffer.
That vast world of love and pain opens suddenly to admit us one
by one within its fortress.
We are afraid to enter into the land, yet you will, I know,
feel how high is the call. It is as a trumpet speaking to us,
that cries aloud--'It is your turn--endure.' Play your part. As
they endured before you, so now, close up the ranks--be patient
and strong as they were. Since Christ, this world of pain is no
accident untoward or sinister, but a lawful department of life,
with experiences, interests, adventures, hopes, delights, secrets
of its own. These are all thrown open to us as we pass within the
gates--things that we could never learn or know or see, so long
as we were well.
God help you to walk through this world now opened to you as
through a kingdom, regal, royal, and wide and glorious. My
warmest sympathies to your wife.'
The first weeks of illness passed away, the physicians seemed more
satisfied with his condition, and he was sent to Carlsbad, and after
five weeks there, came the last bit of pleasant foreign travel. He
and his wife travelled in the Tyrol and in the Bavarian Highlands,
and Mr. Romanes was able to enjoy the glorious scenery with what
seemed keener appreciation than ever; he especially took a fancy to
Parten Kirchen, in Bavaria, and planned a return to it another year
with his children.
He got as far as Meran, and much enjoyed meeting Mr. and Mrs. Lecky
(Mr. Lecky's works were among the very few historical books he read
with any real pleasure). And on his return, Sir Andrew Clark was
encouraging, holding out hopes of a return to health: 'You've made
a bid for recovery,' he said in his genial way. It was thought best
that Mr. Romanes should spend the winter in a warm climate, and
Madeira was chosen.
Then came the first Romanes lecture, which was a great success
in every way. Mr. Gladstone called it 'An Academic Sketch,' and
nothing could have been a happier inauguration of the series. It was
a memorable scene. The Prime Minister in his doctor's robes, the
crowded Sheldonian theatre, the eloquent lecture, the inspiring words
of which came like a trumpet call to Oxford's sons, ending with her
motto, 'Dominus illuminatio mea.'
The few days of Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone's visit to Oxford were days of
real enjoyment to Mr. Romanes. The Journal notes: 'We had a pleasant
luncheon party for the Gladstones and Lord Acton, who was also in
Oxford; also a breakfast party on the morning after the lecture, to
which, among others, came the Principal of St. Edmund's Hall.[98] I
put him next Mr. Gladstone, and the consequence was a Dante talk,
to Lady Compton's great satisfaction. Mr. Gladstone's talk was
wonderful, and no one would have suspected that he had any political
cares whatsoever, or that the Election of 1892 was only just over.'
On the day of the lecture we had a delightful time before lunch. Mary
Paget and Lord Compton sang for an hour, and put us in good humour.
It was with real regret that good-bye was said to the illustrious
guests, with hopes of future meetings never to be realised.
Mr. Huxley accepted the invitation which the Vice-Chancellor
permitted Mr. Romanes to give him privately. The following delightful
letter gives his final decision:[99]
Hodeslea, Staveley Road, Eastbourne: November 1, 1892.
My dear Mrs. Romanes,--I have just written to the Vice-Chancellor
to say that I hope to meet his disposition any time next May.
My wife is 'larking'--I am sorry to use such a word, but what she
is pleased to tell me of her doings leaves me no alternative--in
London, whither I go on Monday to fetch her back--in chains, if
necessary. But I know, in the matter of being 'taken in and done
for' by your hospitable selves, I may, for once, speak for her as
much as myself.
Don't ask anybody above the rank of the younger son of a peer,
because I shall not be able to go into dinner before him or her,
and that part of my dignity is naturally what I prize most.
Would you not like me to come in my P.C.[100] suit? All ablaze
with gold, and costing a sum with which I could buy, oh! so many
books.
Only if your late experiences should prompt you to instruct your
other guests not to contradict me--don't--I rather like it.
Ever yours very truly,
T. H. HUXLEY.
Bon voyage! You can tell Mr. Jones[101] that I will have him
brought before the Privy Council, and fined as in the good old
days, if he does not treat you properly.
Then came the departure for Madeira, which was a real trial, for
never before had Christmas been spent away from home. But the change
seemed to do him much good. Save for occasional days of headache he
was very bright and well, and worked at his book and wrote several
articles for the 'Contemporary Review' on Professor Weismann's
theory. But poetry he could not manage.
_To Mrs. Henry Pollock._
Madeira: December 18, 1892.
My dear Mentor,--I fear you must have been thinking that I am
either very ill or very heartless not to have written ere this.
Yet neither is the case. Ill I assuredly am, but not so much as
to have prevented me from sending you a letter for the marriage
day. The fact is I have been trying to write a sonnet for that
occasion ever since I came out here, and cannot. Since my
breakdown in June I have entirely lost the power of poetising;
I suppose it will come back if my general health should ever
return, but still I did think that such an occasion ought to have
inspired me. Nothing further than rhymes, however, would come,
so the day passed over without my intended contribution to its
memorials.
So, dear Mentor, do not think hardly of me. For indeed both you
and Marion have been much in my thoughts; and for you especially
I know this time must be one of many and varied feelings of the
kind that sink deepest into the heart.[102] So not only my old
affection, but a new sympathy, is with you--a sympathy in the joy
as in the grief of it.
Ethel will have told you what little has to be told about our
uneventful life here. As I have said to all my correspondents, it
is the island that Tennyson must have had in view when he wrote
his 'Lotus-eaters.' The description is so exact, that _I_ need
not write anything in the way of description, if you will only
read _it_.
My headaches are growing less intense, although they still keep
wonderfully persistent. I cannot foresee what is likely to happen
in the end, as no one seems to know exactly what is the matter
with me.
The last mail brought me a letter from the Master of my College
at Cambridge, telling me that I had been unanimously elected
to fill a vacancy in the list of Honorary Fellows. This seems
to me very generous, seeing how I have played the prodigal and
squandered my living on endowing the enemy.
Please give my very heartiest love and good wishes to the bride.
Take also my Christmas greetings for all three of you, coupled
with the congratulations that are so meet, and believe me to
remain,
Yours ever affectionately,
GEO. J. ROMANES.
_To James Romanes, Esq._
Madeira: 1892.
I suppose you will have seen in the newspapers, or have been
told by Char.,[103] that Caius College has made me an Honorary
Fellow.[104] This is a great pleasure to me, because I have
always retained my first love for Cambridge, and yet of late
years I have so severed my connection with it. These coals of
fire have therefore a heat about them which is all the more
gratifying.
_To Professor Ewart._
This would be a wonderful place for natural history if I were
well enough to knock about.
I get fishermen, however, to bring any marine animals which they
know to be rare. There is one fish which I never heard of before,
and which seems to me remarkable on account of its curious
combinations of character, for in all respects it seems to be a
large dog-fish, excepting its teeth, which are those of a shark.
_To Professor Poulton._
New Hotel, Madeira: December 2, 1892.
My dear Poulton,--I have now read the correspondence in 'Nature.'
It seems to me that ---- is quite absurdly 'aggressive,' even
supposing that he proves to be right. But I send this to ask
you about the grasshopper letter in last week's 'Nature,' just
received here. I have noticed the same thing in grasshoppers,
but do not remember to have seen any account of the changes of
colour, or mechanism thereof, in them. Do you know if it has ever
been worked at? If not, I might do so here.
The same question applies to lizards. It seems to me that those
here vary their colours to suit those of _habitual_ stations.
I remember Eimer read a paper about the lizards in Capri, but
forget details. He often alludes to it in his book translated by
Cunningham. What are his main results?
G. J. R.
The Cambridge Fellowship was a great pleasure to Mr. Romanes. In
the last months of his life he longed eagerly to visit his first
University and his own college, and planned visits to Cambridge
which, alas, were never paid.
Canon Isaac Taylor was in the same hotel at Madeira, and this
considerably relieved the weariness of exile. Mr. Romanes was still
full of fun and merriment; the headaches diminished; he played chess
interminably, and even took part in a little play given one afternoon
by a few people who formed themselves into an 'Oxford Brotherhood,'
most of the members having some connection with the University of
Oxford.
The members of the brotherhood were supposed to deliver lectures in
turn, but the burden chiefly fell on Mr. Romanes. The lecturing,
which in this particular case was simply talking, was never any
trouble to him, and he used to deliver little impromptu discourses
which apparently pleased his friendly audience. Canon Taylor kindly
gave a discourse on the Aryans, and displeased one of his audience,
a young lady, by remarking at the outset, 'My specimens (alluding to
Romanes' scientific lectures) are before me, and I suppose we are all
Aryans.' The young lady had imagined she was about to hear a lecture
on Church history, and was not pleased at being dubbed an _Arian_.
Mr. Romanes' letters showed nearly always great brightness and
increased feelings of health, although now and then he had 'bad
days.'
_To James Romanes, Esq._
Madeira: January 1, 1893.
This is the first letter which I write in 1893, and am writing
it early in the morning before breakfast. New Year's Day is as
glorious in sunshine and azure as all--or nearly all--the others
have been since we came. I wish you many returns of them and
happy, whether in cloud or sunshine.
January 31, 1893.
Your letter on the 15th has been a great treat to me; it rings
true and deep, and the next best thing to having dear ones near
is to receive expressions of their dearness.
Besides, I am all alone here, for but a few days, it is true,
still the place seems dreary under present circumstances,
therefore all you say is opportunely said.
For my own part I have always felt that the two most precious
things in life are faith and love, and more and more the older
that I grow. Ambition and achievement are a long way behind
in my experience, in fact out of the running altogether. The
disappointments are many and the prizes few, and by the time they
are attained seem small.
The whole thing is vanity and vexation of spirit without faith
and love.
Perhaps it is by way of compensation for having lost the former
that the latter has been dealt to me in such full measure. I
never knew anyone so well off in this respect....
Although I have been very much in the world I have not a single
enemy, unless it be the ----, who have entirely dropped out of my
life.
On the other hand, I do not know anyone who has so many friends,
not merely acquaintances, but men and women who are devoted with
an ardent affection....
Now, all this might sound very conceited to anyone who would not
understand me as I know you will do. But I have been thinking
the matter over in my solitude, and candidly I am wholly unable
to account for it. Still, to be further candid, even love is
not capable of becoming to me any compensation for the loss of
faith....
But it is time for me to go to bed and shut up this egotistic
screed to post by to-morrow's mail.
I received a telegram yesterday announcing the arrival in England
of my brace of Ethels, and to-morrow I expect the arrival here of
Charlotte and Mytsie.[105]...
I forgot about the mesmerism article. You will have seen that
the writer rather caved in at the end, so that one cannot well
understand how much he himself supposes was genuine and how much
imposture.
But quite apart from (this), there is no question in my mind
that the facts, even as far as hitherto established, are very
perplexing. But on this account there is all the more need for
caution. I myself went over the Paris Salpétrière two years ago,
and saw the doctors' experiments on a number of girls, who were
trotted out for my benefit.
But there was such a lot of hocus pocus with magnets that I was
much disappointed. Even if none of the girls were humbugging, I
saw nothing that could not be explained by suggestion.
For the doctors made suggestions while performing the very
experiments which were designed to exclude suggestion.
_To Mrs. Vernon Boys._
New Hotel, Madeira: February 1, 1893.
My dear Marion,--If I have your husband's permission still to
call you so--your kind letter has been a great solace to me,
after my ineffectual efforts to supply a sonnet for the great
occasion. For it shows me that your Laureate is forgiven, and
my friend, what that friend has always been. Besides, I am now
lonely--as my brace of Ethels has flown away--and therefore your
affectionate words are all the more welcome.
This, however, is the last day of my solitude, as Charlotte and
Mytsie ought to arrive in a few hours.
And now, having given you all my little news, let me pile up my
congratulations as high as words can pile them. I heard all about
the wedding from many different sources, and there was but one
opinion as to the bride. I will not say what it was, but oh, had
I been there to see. It is _so so_ good of you to miss us in the
middle of it all. But it may have been telepathy, because I was
hard at work on my abortive sonnet all that day.
It is like northern breezes to read your account of all the
happy doings you have had on your wedding trip, and it makes me
happy to feel that you have made so wise a choice in the greatest
event of your life. Long may you live together in the cultivation
of domestic bliss, although _of course_ only in the moments
snatched from the cultivation of science!
February 2.
Charlotte and Mytsie arrived last night at ten o'clock--twelve
hours late. They had the roughest voyage which the boat has ever
experienced. Poor Char.[106] is literally more dead than alive.
But the weather here is beautiful, and I hope she may soon get to
rights again.
With affectionate regards to my mentor, and to _yours_, I remain,
ever the same,
PHILOSOPHER.
_To James Romanes, Esq._
Madeira: March 8.
Charlotte enjoys this place amazingly, she is always saying,
'Just a very Paradise for James.' I quite agree with her. You
liked Nice very much, but Nice is far from being up to this
either in regard to sun, flowers, rocks, or mountains. It has
certainly done me a lot of good. My headaches are virtually gone,
and I can work a little again, which makes all the difference
between Heaven and its antipodes.
March 13.
I am glad you are pleased about the lectureship foundation. The
principal feature of the scheme is the perpetual publication of
the lectures in volumes of ten each through all time, or at least
as long as Oxford lasts.
I am better even since I last wrote to you. Even my powers of
work have, to a considerable extent, returned. So I am answering
H. Spencer's articles on 'Weismannism.'
With warmest love, yours ever the same,
GEORGE.
_To Mrs. G. J. Romanes._
Madeira.
I got your dear note soon after we went down to the pier to see
you start. Through the club telescope I thought I saw you and
Fritz. When you got far out I came home. The Taylors joined
our table, which is very agreeable. The Canon told me a good
joke which came off to-day. Sir 'Gorgias' told the Canon he had
bought a second-hand book which he thought Dr. Taylor might find
interesting.
The Canon asked what the book was, and the Knight replied it was
by a man called Locke, and was all about the Human Understanding.
February 2.
Char., Mytsie, and maid arrived; they had a perfectly frightful
passage. All passengers shut down for two days, crockery broken,
&c.
S---- presented a large wedding cake for the Sunday tea of the
Inner Brotherhood.
February 11.
This is the joyful day.[107] Your telegram was handed to me at
lunch, so all the Inner Brotherhood had the benefit. The Canon
said you ought to have used the comparative degree, so as to
leave me an opportunity of returning the superlative.
What a journey you had, poor dears! It does not seem so certain
after all that we should be safe for comfort on a long voyage.
Mytsie and Char. had a worse passage than you, the wind was dead
against them all the way.
It is indeed shocking about the Dean.[108] I heard it before you
did. I will write to him by this mail.
So glad you had such a good concert. If you only knew how I was
longing to enjoy it with you....
An adagio movement has now followed the allegro, and I am looking
forward to a presto home as a finale.
My news is not much. My cold was very bad from Saturday to
Monday, but I slept most of the time straight on. If it were not
for my eyes I should be almost as well as ever I was.
I read Walter Hobhouse's child story, and Mrs. ---- capped it
with another. A little girl she knew asked whether, when she
got to heaven, she might 'have a little devil up to play with.'
Mytsie's nephew, when three years old, had a much prettier idea.
On M. telling him that something had happened before he was born,
he said, 'Then that was when I was still in heaven.' 'Yes,'
answered M., 'but what was heaven like?' 'Oh, there I played with
angels, and there was nothing but Christmas trees.'
Are not the debates first-rate? It seems to me I never read so
many good speeches as those of Balfour, Bryce, and Chamberlain.
But the measure itself is absurd.
We had a party on board the 'Royal Sovereign' on Tuesday last.
It was a dance on deck, and was very pretty. Enormous profusion
of flags and flowers all over the ship. I asked one of the
midshipmen to dine with us at the 'round table;' he had shown
us over one of the ships on a previous day, as I told you, and
proved an awfully nice little fellow, curiously like P. N.
W.[109] Suffers always horribly from sea-sickness, and gave a
dismal account of his life at sea.
By the way, _à propos_ of the B.A. I suppose you have heard that
Lord Salisbury is to be President next year at Oxford. You had
better be thinking whom to invite as guests, leaving a margin in
case ---- should redeem his promise. I shall meet him between
this and then somewhere and ascertain.
March 12.
There has been a most extraordinary change in the weather. Up to
yesterday we had three of the calmest days that have been since
I came. The sea was without a ripple, and Char. and I were last
night hoping it would be like that when we start, as it would be
sure to last till we got home. When, lo and behold, this morning
there is by far the highest wind and sea I have yet seen. The
spray is flying right over the rocks, once up to where Fritz got
over the wall by the bathing-place. Rain in sheets. The 'Drummond
Castle' will have an awful time of it. No hope of a letter to-day.
March 16.
Letters, such jolly good gossip that I feel disposed to follow
the example of the 'distinguished man' who lived apart from his
wife because he so much enjoyed her letters. And yet I am like a
hound straining at his leash to get away.
I _cannot_ read what it is that York Powell is going to have
designed for us, it looks like 'booky flash.'[110]
... By the time you get this, it will only be another fortnight
before you get me, and I believe you will get me in a wonderfully
restored state of health.
March 17.
The weather is still the same. Tremendous wind and perpetual
squalls of rain, 'the sea and the waves roaring,' also 'men's
hearts failing them for fear,' for the occupants of the rooms we
used to have never went to bed last night.
This morning an English man-of-war ran in for refuge, but had
to run out again before the return salutes had been fired, as
her anchors could not hold, and an odd accident happened. At the
18-minute gun from the fort, one of the gunners somehow got in
front of the cannon and was blown to atoms. I suppose they were
all confused with the wind and the spray.
The waterproof coat you sent me is in great requisition. Moreover
it is a source of great amusement to the Inner Brotherhood,
as Miss Taylor has discovered in it a close resemblance to a
hassock--no, I mean a cassock. She wants me to get a round hat
wherewith to 'cap' it when I return to Oxford. All the same, it
is the best thing in the way of a waterproof that I have met as
yet.
March 19.
I have got Weismann's new book, 'The Germ-Plasm.' It is a
much more finished performance than the 'Essays.' In fact, he
has evidently been consulting botanists, reading up English
literature on the subject, so he has anticipated nearly all the
points of my long criticisms. This is a nuisance.
_Per contra_, since coming here I have heard of no less than
three additional cases of cats which have lost their tails
afterwards having tailless kittens. I wish to goodness I had been
more energetic in getting on with my experiments about this, so
I have written to John to get me twelve kittens to meet me on
my return. It would be a grand thing to knock down W.'s whole
edifice with a cat's tail.
The monotony of life here is becoming intolerable. There is
nothing to write about.
You will have seen that Taine is dead. I was just about to write
to him, to ask if he would be the Romanes lecturer.
March 21.
Here is an odd thing. I find that Weismann in his new book has
discussed all the points raised by Spencer. So Spencer and I have
been hammering away at things which W. has already written upon.
Luckily, he says about what I anticipated he would say (see my
article), but how absurd a fiasco! I have written a postscript
to go by the mail, hoping it may arrive in time to be bound up
as a separate slip before the issue of April number, explaining
that absence from England prevented me from getting W.'s new book
until now. But S. ought to have known.
March 22.
I have written to Weismann telling him that Bunting will send him
a copy of the 'Cont. Review.'[111]
I have asked W. if he will give the Romanes Lecture some year.
Love to you and the chicks. You will have to tell me which is
which of the boys.
Unless he has already procured ordinary kittens, tell John[112]
to get them either Angora or Persian. They will cost more, but
will be much better.
I had a long innings with the doctor to-day; he says I am
perfectly sound; believes my headaches are all gastric.
Your last letter just received is such a relief to me. I was just
Ernest's age when I nearly died of whooping cough.
The home coming was very bright, and again Mr. Romanes set to work
with renewed and, alas, too great vigour. Beyond absolutely refusing
invitations to dine out at Oxford, and living as quietly as possible
at home, there was no keeping him in order. The following letters
show how irrepressible his spirits were whenever a day's health made
him hopeful again.
_To Mrs. G. J. Romanes._
Athenæum Club: May 10, 1893.
I was very sorry that I could not get home to-day, and hope
you will have received my telegram. Everybody was at the Royal
Society except Balfour, and I became wearied with congratulations
on my improved appearance. I met Moulton,[113] who was awfully
nice, and wanted me to dine and sleep at his house some day if I
can, in order to talk over 'physiological selection.'
So I asked him to come and hear Huxley. He said he would try....
Galton asked me to join in an investigation of the French
calculating boy at his house to-day, so I did. Oliver Lodge was
there. The boy was most marvellous.
I am going to the Globe to-night and am very well. After the R.S.
last night I went to a party at Lady Tenterden's. Very smart.
Yours ever lovingly,
GEORGE.
_Journal: May._--Sir A. Clark is fairly encouraging. Dinner at
Mrs. Pollock's; met the R. Palgraves and W. Flowers, who have
blossomed out into K.C.B.'s since we left.
_20th._--The Huxleys' visit has been most delightful. He was
most genial and 'mellow,' and his lecture has, of course,
aroused great interest. Various people to meet them. Mr. Gore
and Professor Froude one day to lunch. Somewhat heterogeneous
elements. When the former had gone, Mr. Huxley suddenly awakened
to the fact that it was the Principal of the Pusey House whom he
had met.
Count and Countess Balzani have been here, and we had an
'historical' dinner for them.
This was the last bit of the old pleasant life which Mr. Romanes had
so much enjoyed. He was busy arranging experiments on heliotropism
and on the power of germination in dry seeds after precautions had
been taken to prevent any ordinary processes of respiration, which
were worked up into a Royal Society paper. He writes:
_To F. Darwin, Esq._
St. Aldate's, Oxford: June 14.
My dear Darwin,--There has been no hurry about answering my
letter because I cannot publish until I shall have ascertained
what has already been done upon the subject, and for this purpose
I have had to write to Germany. I am greatly obliged to you for
the substantial assistance which your letter has given me.
My _modus operandi_ was to give nine different kinds of seeds to
Crookes,[114] to place them in one of his 1/1000000 atmosphere
vacuums for three months last year (viz. February, March, and
April). He then left one set undisturbed, whilst the other eight
sets were transferred to their respective gases (nine in number),
where they remained sealed up for a year. On being planted last
month they have all germinated even better than those from the
control packets of seeds, which have been in air all the time.
I should have thought beforehand that at any rate the seeds which
have been in so high a vacuum for fifteen months would have had
any residual air extracted. But I will now try for next year,
peeling peas, beans, &c., as you suggest. Do you think it would
be well also to soak the seeds for a few hours before sealing in
Crookes' tubes?
Do not trouble to answer by letter, as I am going to Cambridge on
the 21st inst. for the day, and will then see you if I can find
you at home.
I am not exactly 'at work,' as I am not as yet well enough to
attempt it at anything like ordinary pressure, but I am certainly
better, and much obliged to you for your kind inquiries upon the
subject.
With our united kind regards to Mrs. Darwin and yourself,
I remain, yours sincerely,
G. J. ROMANES.
P.S. My illness has left me half blind, so I write as much as
possible by dictation. (What a bull!)
94 St. Aldate's, Oxford: June 15.
My dear Dyer,--Many thanks for your letter with enclosures. The
letter shows that ----'s opinion has not altered since I last saw
him. As I think I told you at the Athenæum, he undertook some
two or three years ago on my behalf to raise discussions in the
papers, to which he alludes. Since that time he has sent me, I
believe, copies of all the numberless letters which have been
published in consequence. The result of our inquiry has been to
confirm the opinion which he gave me at the first, and also to
form my own in the same direction. (See my article in answer to
Herbert Spencer in the 'Contemporary Review' for April.[115])
As regards the isolation of species I do not understand why you
should suppose that the facts of hybridisation to which you
allude should in any way modify my 'belief.' As fully set forth
in 'Physiological Selection,' what I maintain is that the origin
of species is in _all_ cases due to isolation of _some kind_,
but that only in the case of differential fertility can physo.
sel. have been the kind of isolation at work. Therefore, it
would be fatal to my views if all species were cross-sterile,
because this would prove vastly too much. What the theory of
phy. sel. requires is exactly what occurs, viz. cross-sterility
between allied species in nearly all cases _where species have
been differentiated on common areas_ or identical stations,
and more or less complete cross-fertility where they have been
differentiated on different (discontinuous) areas, or else
prevented from intercrossing by yet some other means of isolation.
I have collected a quantity of evidence in favour of both these
otherwise inexplicable correlations. But I should like to know
the species of wild fowl which you have found to be hybridisable
or cross-fertile, so that I may ascertain whether their natural
breeding areas are, or are not, identical. Of course I should
expect them not to be.
I have been told to save my eyes as much as possible, and
therefore conduct most of my correspondence by dictation. But not
being used to this process, I find it even more difficult than
before to express my meaning with clearness, so I will tackle
with my own hand what you say about Aquilegias.
I have looked up the group, and find that, with the exception
of vulgaris (common columbine), all the European species seem
to occupy restricted areas, or else well-isolated stations.
Also, that the same seems to apply as a very general rule to
other species all over the world, for, wherever mountains are
concerned, stations are apt to be isolated by difference of
altitude, &c.
Now if such be the case with the group in question, the fact
of its constituent species being freely hybridisable when
artificially brought together is exactly what my theory requires.
For the specific differentiation has presumably been effected by
geographical (or topographical) isolation, without physiological
having had anything to do with it. In fact, as stated over and
over again in my original paper, _this_ correlation between
geographical isolation and cross-fertility is _one_ of my lines
of verification, the _other_ line being the correlation between
identical stations and cross-sterility.
Now, as above stated, I have found both these correlations to
obtain in a surprisingly general manner.
I wish that, instead of perpetually misunderstanding the theory,
you English botanists would help me by pointing out _exceptions_
to these two rules, so that I might specially investigate them.
It seems to me that the group you name goes to corroborate the
first of them, while all Jordan's work, for instance, uniformly
bears out the second. And whatever may be thought about him in
other respects, I am not aware that anyone has ever refuted his
observations and experiments so far as I am concerned with them.
Yours ever sincerely,
G. J. ROMANES.
94 St. Aldate's, Oxford: June 22.
Dear Dyer,--I received a letter from ---- by the same post
that brought yours of the 19th inst. From it I gather that
his opinion on the subject of telegony has not changed in any
material respect since our inquiry began. His opinion has always
been such as you now quote ('atavism' on the one hand, with a
small minority of 'dormant fertilisation' cases on the other).
His has likewise always been my own view (with the addition
of coincidence), and has been corroborated by the result of
these inquiries. So I think we are all three pretty well in
agreement, because both ---- and myself share in your doubts
as to the minority of the cases being really due to dormant
fertilisation--_i.e._ not to be ascribed to coincidence or
mal-observation. Also, as I said before, I quite agree with
you that 'neither view is any help to Herbert Spencer.' In
fact, I have somewhat elaborately sought to prove this in my
'Contemporary Review' article for April, and have been in private
correspondence with him ever since, but without getting any
'forerder.'
But in this connection I should like to know whether you have
any opinion upon the apparently analogous class of phenomena
in plants which Darwin gives in the eleventh chapter of his
'Variation,' &c. Here, it seems to me, the evidence is much more
cogent and of far more importance to the issue, Weismann _v._
Lamarck. Focke and Dr. Vris, however, seem to doubt the facts
or their interpretation, although, as it seems to me, without
presenting any adequate reasons for doing so. You need not bother
with Dr. Vris, as he merely follows Focke, but I wish you would
read Focke ('Die Pflanzen-Mischlinge,' p. 510, _et sq._), and
compare what he says with the evidence which Darwin presents.
As I do not know in what respects you have found one part of
my previous letter not to 'tally' with another, I cannot fully
explain it; but I fancy that you will find they do, if, in
reading the letter, you carry in your mind the simple proposition
that, from the nature of the case, there can be no physiological
selection except where differentiating varieties ('incipient
species') occur upon common areas and identical stations. I do
not see any difficulty about willows, roses, brambles, &c., since
Naudin's researches on _Datura_ have shown how much variability,
due to the hybridisation of any two species, may give rise to
the _appearance_ of there being many species. This, you will
remember, is the view that Naudin himself takes with regard to
willows &c.--although, of course, without any reference to phy.
sel. If you will refer to p. 405 of the paper on phy. sel. you
will find that from the first I have been aware of the difficulty
about discontinuous areas to which you allude. But I think the
converse line of evidence (viz. that of cross-sterility between
incipient species on identical stations) will alone prove
sufficient to verify the theory. At the same time I look for more
corroboration from the cross-fertility of well differentiated
species upon discontinuous areas where these are, as you say,
oceanic islands, or, still better, mountainous districts where
the allied species are severally peculiar to mountain tops and
isolated valleys. For in these cases there must be much doubt, as
a general rule, touching the species having been differentiated
by topographical isolation upon the particular areas where they
are now found. Moreover, and this I think quite as important,
the consideration which Darwin adduces in another connection is
obviated, viz. 'that if a species was rendered sterile with some
one compatriot, sterility with other species would follow as a
necessary contingency.'
Yours very sincerely,
G. J. ROMANES.
P.S.--From your first letter it would almost seem that you had
supposed me to doubt the fact (or, at any rate, the frequency)
of cross-fertility in general. And this after I had written the
article on 'Hybridisation' in the 'Ency. Brit.'!
In June Mr. Romanes took a small house for the summer months outside
Oxford at Boar's Hill, a district well known to Oxford people, and it
was hoped country air and quiet might do him much good.
He was rather headachy, and liked to lie on the grass in the garden
and have novels read to him, but he was able to go up to London one
day, and even planned to take a journey to Wiesbaden in order to
consult an eminent oculist.