[He was not, however, equally certain that particular areas of Sea Shore might not be exhausted by our fishing. He extended in 1883 an order which Mr. Buckland and I had made in 1879 for restricting the taking of crabs and lobsters on the coast of Norfolk, and he wrote to me on that occasion:] "I was at Cromer and Sheringham last week, holding an inquiry for the Board of Trade about the working of your order of 1879. According to all accounts, the crabs have multiplied threefold in 1881 and 1882. Whether this is post hoc or propter hoc is more than I should like to say. But at any rate, this is a very good prima facie case for continuing the order, and I shall report accordingly. Anyhow, the conditions are very favourable for a long-continued experiment in the effects of regulation, and, ten years hence, there will be some means of judging of the value of these restrictions."

[If, however, Professor Huxley was strongly opposed to unnecessary interference with the labours of sea fishermen, he was well aware of the necessity of protecting migratory fish like salmon, against over-fishing: and his reports for 1882 and 1883—in which he gave elaborate accounts of the results of legislation on the Tyne and on the Severn—show that he keenly appreciated the necessity of regulating the Salmon Fisheries.

It so happened that at the time of his appointment, many of our important rivers were visited by "Saprolegnia ferax," the fungoid growth which became popularly known as Salmon Disease. Professor Huxley gave much time to the study of the conditions under which the fungus flourished: he devoted much space in his earlier reports to the subject: and he read a paper upon it at a remarkable meeting of the Royal Society in the summer of 1881. He took a keen interest in these investigations, and he wrote to me from North Wales, at the end of 1881,] "The salmon brought to me here have not been so badly diseased as I could have wished, and the fungus dies so rapidly out of the water that only one specimen furnished me with materials in lively condition. These I have cultivated: and to my great satisfaction have got some flies infected. With nine precious muscoid corpses, more or less ornamented with a lovely fur trimming of Saprolegnia, I shall return to London to-morrow, and shall be ready in a short time, I hope, to furnish Salmon Disease wholesale, retail, or for exportation."

[In carrying out the duties of our office, Professor Huxley and I were necessarily thrown into very close communication. There were few days in which we did not pass some time in each other's company: there were many weeks in which we travelled together through the river basins of this country. I think that I am justified in saying that official intercourse ripened into warm personal friendship, and that, for the many months in which we served together, we lived on terms of intimacy which are rare among colleagues or even among friends.

It is needless to say that, as a companion, Professor Huxley was the most delightful of men. Those who have met him in society, or enjoyed the hospitality of his house, must have been conscious of the singular charm of a conversation, which was founded on knowledge, enlarged by memory, and brightened by humour. But, admirable as he was in society, no one could have realised the full charm of his company who had not conversed with him alone. He had the rare art of placing men, whose knowledge and intellect were inferior to his own, at their ease. He knew how to draw out all that was best in the companion who suited him; and he had equal pleasure in giving and receiving. Our conversation ranged over every subject. We discussed together the grave problems of man and his destiny; we disputed on the minor complications of modern politics; we criticised one another's literary judgments; and we laughed over the stories which we told one another, and of which Professor Huxley had an inexhaustible fund.

In conversation Professor Huxley displayed the quality which distinguished him both as a writer and a public speaker. He invariably used the right words in the right sense. Those who are jointly responsible—as he and I were often jointly responsible—for some written document, have exceptional opportunities of observing this quality. Professor Huxley could always put his finger on a wrong word, and he always instinctively chose the right one. It was this qualification—a much rarer one than people imagine—which made Professor Huxley's essays clear to the meanest understanding, and which made him, in my judgment, the greatest master of prose of his time. The same quality was equally observable in his spoken speech. I happened to be present at the anniversary dinner of the Royal Society, at which Professor Huxley made his last speech. And, as he gave an admirable account of the share which he had taken in defending Mr. Darwin against his critics, I overheard the present Prime Minister (Lord Salisbury.) say, "What a beautiful speaker he is."

In 1882, the duties of another appointment forced me to resign the Inspectorship, which I had held for so long: and thenceforward my residence in the Isle of Man gave me fewer opportunities of seeing Professor Huxley: our friendship, however, remained unbroken; and occasional visits to London gave me many opportunities of renewing it. He retained his own appointment as Inspector for more than three years after my resignation. He served, during the closing months of his officialship, on a Royal Commission on trawling, over which the late Lord Dalhousie presided. But his health broke down before the commissioners issued their report, and he was ordered abroad. It so happened that in the spring of 1885 I was staying at Florence, when Professor and Mrs. Huxley passed through it on their way home. He had at that time seen none of his old friends, and was only slowly regaining strength. After his severe illness Mrs. Huxley encouraged me to take him out for many short walks, and I did my best to cheer him in his depressed condition. He did not then think that he had ten years of—on the whole—happy life before him. He told me that he was about to retire from all his work, and he added, that he had never enjoyed the Inspectorship after I had left it. I am happy in believing that the remark was due to the depression from which he was suffering, for he had written to me two years ago,] "The office would be quite perfect, if they did not want an annual report. I can't go in for a disquisition on river basins after the manner of Buckland, and you have exhausted the other topics. I polished off the Salmon Disease pretty fully last year, so what the deuce am I to write about?"

[I saw Professor Huxley for the last time on the Christmas day before his death. I spent some hours with him, with no other companions than Mrs. Huxley and my daughter. I had never seen him brighter or happier, and his rich, playful and sympathetic talk vividly recalled the many brilliant hours which I had passed in his company some twelve or thirteen years before.

One word more. No one could have known Professor Huxley intimately without recognising that he delighted in combat. He was never happier than when he was engaged in argument or controversy, and he loved to select antagonists worthy of his steel. The first public inquiry which we held together was attended by a great nobleman, whom Professor Huxley did not know by sight, but who rose at the commencement of our proceedings to offer some suggestions. Professor Huxley directed him to sit down, and not interrupt the business. I told my colleague in a whisper whom he was interrupting. And I was amused, as we walked away to luncheon together, by his quaint remark to me,] "We have begun very well, we have sat upon a duke." [(Of this he wrote home on March 15, 1881:] "Somebody produced the 'Punch' yesterday and showed it to me, to the great satisfaction of the Duke of —, who has attended our two meetings. I nearly had a shindy with him at starting, but sweetness and light (in my person) carried the day." [This "Punch" contained the cartoon of Huxley in nautical costume riding on a salmon; contrary to the custom of "Punch," it made an unfair hit in appending to his name the letters L.s.d. (Pounds, shillings and pence.) Never was any one who deserved the imputation less.)

If, however, a love of argument and controversy occasionally led him into hot water, I do not think that his polemical tendencies ever cost him a friend. His antagonists must have recognised the fairness of his methods, and must have been susceptible to the charm of the man. The high example which he set in controversy, moreover, was equally visible in his ordinary life. Of all the men I have ever known, his ideas and his standard were—on the whole—the highest. He recognised that the fact of his religious views imposed on him the duty of living the most upright of lives, and I am very much of the opinion of a little child, now grown into an accomplished woman, who, when she was told that Professor Huxley had no hope of future rewards, and no fear of future punishments, emphatically declared: "Then I think Professor Huxley is the best man I have ever known."

Extracts from his letters home give some further idea of the kind of work entailed. Thus in March and again in May he was in Wales, and writes:—]

Cromffyratellionptrroch, May 24.

Mr. Barrington's very pretty place about five miles from Abergavenny, wherein I write, may or may not have the name which I have written on at the top of the page, as it is Welsh; however it is probably that or something like it. I forgot to inquire.

We are having the loveliest weather, and yesterday went looking up weirs with more or less absurd passes up a charming valley not far hence. It is just seven o'clock, and we are going to breakfast and start at eight to fit in with the tides of the Severn. It is not exactly clear where we shall be to-night...Now I must go to breakfast, for I got up at six. Figurez vous ca.

Hereford, May 29.

We are favoured by the weather again, though it is bitter cold under the bright sunshine. We stopped at Worcester yesterday, and I went to examine some weirs hard by. This involved three or four miles' country walking, and was all to the good. If the Inspector business were all of this sort it would be all that fancy painted it. We shall have a long sitting to-day...[(He fears to be detained into the night by "over-fluent witnesses.")

In April he spent several days at Norwich, in connection with the National Fishery Exhibition held there.]

April 19.

We had a gala day yesterday...The exhibition of all manner of fish and fishing apparatus was ready, for a wonder, and looked very well. The Prince and Princess arrived, and we had the usual address and reply and march through. Afterwards a mighty dejeuner in the St. Andrew's Hall—a fine old place looking its best. I was just opposite the Princess, and I could not help looking at her with wonderment. She looked so fresh and girlish. She came and talked to me afterwards in a very pleasant simple way.

Walpole and I went in with our host yesterday afternoon and started to return on the understanding that he should pick us up a few miles out. Of course we took the wrong road, and walked all the way, some eight miles or so. However, it did us good, and after a champagne lunch we thought we could not do better than repeat the operation yesterday.

I feel quite set up by finding that after standing about for hours I can walk eight miles without any particular fatigue. Life in the old dog yet! Walpole is a capital companion—knows a great many things, and talks well about them, so we get over the ground pleasantly.

April 20.

There was a long day of it yesterday looking over things in the Exhibition till late in the afternoon, and then a mighty dinner in St. Andrew's Hall given by a Piscatorial Society of which my host is President. It was a weary sitting of five hours with innumerable speeches. Of course I had to say "a few words," and if I can get a copy of the papers I will send them to you. I flatter myself they were words of wisdom, though hardly likely to contribute to my popularity among the fishermen.

[On the 21st he gave an address on the Herring. To describe the characteristics of this fish in the Eastern Counties, he says, might seem like carrying coals to Newcastle; nevertheless the fisherman's knowledge is not the same as that of the man of science, and includes none but the vaguest notions of the ways of life of the fish and the singularities of its organisation which perplexed biologists. His own study of the problems connected with the herring had begun nineteen years before, when he served on the first of his two Fishery Commissions; and one of his chief objects in this address was to insist upon a fact, borne out partly by the inquiries of the Commission, partly by later investigations in Europe and America, which it was difficult to make people appreciate, namely, the impossibility of man's fisheries affecting the numbers of the herring to any appreciable extent, a year's catch not amounting to the estimated number of a single shoal; while the flatfish and cod fisheries remove many of the most destructive enemies of the herring. Those who had not studied the question in this light would say that "it stands to reason" that vast fisheries must tend to exterminate the fish; apropos of which, he made his well-known remark, that in questions of biology] "if any one tells me 'it stands to reason' that such and such things must happen, I generally find reason to doubt the safety of his standing."

[This year, also, he began the investigations which completed former inquiries into the subject, and finally elucidated the nature of the salmon disease. The last link in the chain of evidence which proved its identity with a fungoid disease of flies, was not reached until March 1883; and on July 3 following he delivered a full account of the disease, its nature and origin, in an address at the Fisheries Exhibition in London.

In 1881, then, at the end of December, he went to North Wales to study on the fresh fish the nature of the epidemic of salmon disease which had broken out in the Conway, in spite of being in such bad health that he was persuaded to let his younger son come and look after him. But this was only a passing premonition of the breakdown which was to come upon him three years after.

One year's work as Inspector was very like another. In 1882, for instance, on January 21, he is at Berwick, "voiceless but jolly"; in the spring he had to attend a Fisheries Exhibition in Edinburgh, and writes:—]

April 12.

We have opened our Exhibition, and I have been standing about looking at the contents until my back is broken.

April 13.

The weather here is villainous—a regular Edinburgh "coorse day." I have seen all I wanted to see of the Exhibition, eaten two heavy dinners, one with Primrose and one with Young, and want to get home. Walpole and I are dining domestically at home this evening, having virtuously refused all invitations.

[In June he was in Hampshire; on July 25 he writes from Tynemouth:—]

I reached here about 5 o'clock, and found the bailiff or whatever they call him of the Board of Conservators, awaiting me with a boat at my disposal. So we went off to look at what they call "The Playground"—two bays in which the salmon coming from the sea rest and disport themselves until a fresh comes down the river and they find it convenient to ascend. Harbottle bailiff in question is greatly disturbed at the amount of poaching that goes on in the playground, and unfolded his griefs to me at length. It was a lovely evening, very calm, and I enjoyed my boat expedition. To-morrow there is to be another to see the operations of a steam trawler, which in all probability I shall not enjoy so much. I shall take a light breakfast.

[These were the pleasanter parts of the work. The less pleasant was sitting all day in a crowded court, hearing a disputed case of fishing rights, or examining witnesses who stuck firmly to views about fish which had long been exploded by careful observation. But on the whole he enjoyed it, although it took him away from research in other departments. This summer, on the death of Professor Rolleston, he was sounded on the question whether he would consent to accept the Linacre Professorship of Physiology at Oxford. He wrote to the Warden of Merton:—]

4 Marlborough Place, June 22, 1881.

My dear Brodrick,

Many thanks for your letter. I can give you my reply at once, as my attention has already been called to the question you ask; and it is that I do not see my way to leaving London for Oxford. My reasons for arriving at this conclusion are various. I am getting old, and you should have a man in full vigour. I doubt whether the psychical atmosphere of Oxford would suit me, and still more, whether I should suit it after a life spent in the absolute freedom of London. And last, but by no means least, for a man with five children to launch into the world, the change would involve a most serious loss of income. No doubt there are great attractions on the other side; and, if I had been ten years younger, I should have been sorely tempted to go to Oxford, if the University would have had me. But things being as they are, I do not see my way to any other conclusion than that which I have reached.

[The same feeling finds expression in a letter to Professor (afterwards Sir William) Flower, who was also approached on the same subject, and similarly determined to remain in London.]

July 21, 1881.

My dear Flower,

I am by no means surprised, and except for the sake of the University, not sorry that you have renounced the Linacre.

Life is like walking along a crowded street—there always seem to be fewer obstacles to getting along on the opposite pavement—and yet, if one crosses over, matters are rarely mended.

I assure you it is a great comfort to me to think that you will stay in London and help in keeping things straight in this world of crookedness.

I have thought a good deal about —, but it would never do. No one could value his excellent qualities of all kinds, and real genius in some directions, more than I do; but, in my judgment, nobody could be less fitted to do the work which ought to be done in Oxford—I mean to give biological science a status in the eyes of the Dons, and to force them to acknowledge it as a part of general education. Moreover, his knowledge, vast and minute as it is in some directions, is very imperfect in others, and the attempt to qualify himself for the post would take him away from the investigations, which are his delight and for which he is specially fitted...

I was very much interested in your account of the poor dear Dean's illness. I called on Thursday morning, meeting Jowett and Grove at the door, and we went in and heard such an account of his state that I had hopes he might pull through. We shall not see his like again.

The last time I had a long talk with him was about the proposal to bury George Eliot in the Abbey, and a curious revelation of the extraordinary catholicity and undaunted courage of the man it was. He would have done it had it been pressed upon him by a strong representation.

I see he is to be buried on Monday, and I suppose and hope I shall have the opportunity of attending.

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

[This letter refers to the death of his old friend Dean Stanley. The Dean had long kept in touch with the leaders of scientific thought, and it is deeply interesting to know that on her death-bed, five years before, his wife said to him as one of her parting counsels, "Do not lose sight of the men of science, and do not let them lose sight of you." "And then," writes Stanley to Tyndall, "she named yourself and Huxley."

Strangely enough, the death of the Dean involved another invitation to Huxley to quit London for Oxford. By the appointment of Dean Bradley to Westminster, the Mastership of University College was left vacant. Huxley, who was so far connected with the college that he had examined there for a science Fellowship, was asked if he would accept it, but after careful consideration declined. He writes to his son, who had heard rumours of the affair in Oxford:—]

4 Marlborough Place, November 4, 1881.

My dear Lens,

There is truth in the rumour; in so far as this that I was asked if I would allow myself to be nominated for the Mastership of University, that I took the question into serious consideration and finally declined.

But I was asked to consider the communication made to me confidential, and I observed the condition strictly. The leakage must have taken place among my Oxford friends, and is their responsibility, but at the same time I would rather you did not contribute to the rumour on the subject. Of course I should have told you if I had not been bound to reticence.

I was greatly tempted for a short time by the prospect of rest, but when I came to look into the matter closely there were many disadvantages. I do not think I am cut out for a Don nor your mother for a Donness—we have had thirty years' freedom in London, and are too old to put in harness.

Moreover, in a monetary sense I should have lost rather than gained.

My astonishment at the proposal was unfeigned, and I begin to think I may yet be a Bishop.

Ever your loving father,

T.H. Huxley.

[His other occupations this year were the Medical Acts Commission, which sat until the following year, and the International Medical Congress.

The Congress detained him in London this summer later than usual. It lasted from the 3rd to the 9th of August, on which day he delivered a concluding address on "The Connection of the Biological Sciences with Medicine" ("Collected Essays" 3 page 347). He showed how medicine was gradually raised from mere empiricism and based upon true pathological principles, through the independent growth of physiological knowledge, and its correlation to chemistry and physics.] "It is a peculiarity," [he remarks,] "of the physical sciences that they are independent in proportion as they are imperfect." [Yet] "there could be no real science of pathology until the science of physiology had reached a degree of perfection unattained, and indeed unattainable, until quite recent times." [Historically speaking, modern physiology, he pointed out, began with Descartes' attempt to explain bodily phenomena on purely physical principles; but the Cartesian notion of one controlling central mechanism had to give way before the proof of varied activities residing in various tissues, until the cell-theory united something of either view. "The body is a machine of the nature of an army, not that of a watch or of a hydraulic apparatus." On this analogy, diseases are derangements either of the physiological units of the body, or of their coordinating machinery: and the future of medicine depends on exact knowledge of these derangements and of the precise alteration of the conditions by the administration of drugs or other treatment, which will redress those derangements without disturbing the rest of the body.

A few extracts from letters to his wife describe his occupation at the Congress, which involved too much "society" for his liking.]

August 4.

The Congress began with great eclat yesterday, and the latter part of Paget's address was particularly fine. After, there was the lunch at the Paget's with the two Royalties. After that, an address by Virchow. After that, dinner at Sanderson's, with a confused splutter of German to the neighbours on my right. After that a tremendous soiree at South Kensington, from which I escaped as soon as I could, and got home at midnight. There is a confounded Lord Mayor's dinner this evening ("The usual turtle and speeches to the infinite bewilderment and delight of the foreigners," August 6), and to-morrow a dinner at the Physiological Society. But I have got off the Kew party, and mean to go quietly down to the Spottiswoodes [i.e. at Sevenoaks] on Saturday afternoon, and get out of the way of everything except the College of Surgeons' Soiree, till Tuesday. Commend me for my prudence.

[On the 5th he was busy all day with Government Committees, only returning to correct proofs of his address before the social functions of the evening. Next morning he writes:—]

I have been toiling at my address this morning. It is all printed, but I must turn it inside out, and make a speech of it if I am to make any impression on the audience in St. James' Hall. Confound all such bobberies.

August 9.

I got through my address to-day as well as I ever did anything. There was a large audience, as it was the final meeting of the Congress, and to my surprise I found myself in excellent voice and vigour. So there is life in the old dog yet. But I am greatly relieved it is over, as I have been getting rather shaky.

[When the Medical Congress was over, he joined his family at Grasmere for the rest of August. In September he attended the British Association at York, where he read a paper on the "Rise and Progress of Palaeontology," and ended the month with fishery business at Aberystwith and Carmarthen.

The above paper is to be found in "Collected Essays," 4 page 24. In it he concludes an historical survey of the views held about fossils by a comparison of the opposite hypothesis upon which the vast store of recently accumulated facts may be interpreted; and declaring for the hypothesis of evolution, repeats the remarkable words of the "Coming of Age of the Origin of Species," that] "the paleontological discoveries of the last decade are so completely in accordance with the requirements of this hypothesis that, if it had not existed, the paleontologist would have had to invent it."

[In February died Thomas Carlyle. Mention has already been made of the influence of his writings upon Huxley in strengthening and fixing once for all, at the very outset of his career, that hatred of shams and love of veracity, which were to be the chief principle of his whole life. It was an obligation he never forgot, and for this, if for nothing else, he was ready to join in a memorial to the man. In reply to a request for his support in so doing, he wrote to Lord Stanley of Alderley on March 9:—]

Anything I can do to help in raising a memorial to Carlyle shall be most willingly done. Few men can have dissented more strongly from his way of looking at things than I; but I should not yield to the most devoted of his followers in gratitude for the bracing wholesome influence of his writings when, as a very young man, I was essaying without rudder or compass to strike out a course for myself.

[Mention has already been made of his ill-health at the end of the year, which was perhaps a premonition of the breakdown of 1883. An indication of the same kind may be found in the following letter to Mrs. Tyndall, who had forwarded a document which Dr. Tyndall had meant to send himself with an explanatory note.]

4 Marlborough Place, March 25, 1881.

My dear Mrs. Tyndall,

But where is his last note to me? That is the question on which I have been anxiously hoping for light since I received yours and the enclosure, which contains such a very sensible proposition that I should like to know how it came into existence, abiogenetically or otherwise.

As I am by way of forgetting everything myself just now, it is a comfort to me to believe that Tyndall has forgotten he forgot to send the letter of which he forgot the inclosure. The force of disremembering could no further go.

In affectionate bewilderment, ever yours,

T.H. Huxley.

[His general view of his health, however, was much more optimistic, as appears from a letter to Mrs. May (wife of the friend of his boyhood) about her son, whose strength had been sapped by typhoid fever, and who had gone out to the Cape to recruit.]

4 Marlborough Place, June 10, 1881.

My dear Mrs. May,

I promised your daughter the other day that I would send you the Bishop of Natal's letter to me. Unfortunately I had mislaid it, and it only turned up just now when I was making one of my periodical clearances in the chaos of papers that accumulates on my table.

You will be pleased to see how fully the good Bishop appreciates Stuart's excellent qualities, and as to the physical part of the business, though it is sad enough that a young man should be impeded in this way, I think you should be hopeful. Delicate young people often turn out strong old people—I was a thread paper of a boy myself, and now I am an extremely tough old personage...

With our united kind regards to Mr. May and yourself,

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

[Perhaps if he had been able each year to carry out the wish expressed in the following letter, which covered an introduction to Dr. Tyndall at his house on the Bel Alp, the breakdown of 1883 might have been averted.]

4 Marlborough Place, London, N.W., July 5 [1881?].

My dear Skelton,

It is a great deal more than I would say for everybody, but I am sure Tyndall will be very much obliged to me for making you known to him; and if you, insignificant male creature, how very much more for the opportunity of knowing Mrs. Skelton!

For which last pretty speech I hope the lady will make a prettier curtsey. So go boldly across the Aletsch, and if they have a knocker (which I doubt), knock and it shall be opened unto you.

I wish I were going to be there too; but Royal Commissions are a kind of endemic in my constitution, and I have a very bad one just now. [The Medical Acts Commission 1881-2.]

With kind remembrances to Mrs. Skelton,

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

[The ecclesiastical sound of his new title of Dean of the College of Science afforded him a good deal of amusement. He writes from Grasmere, where he had joined his family for the summer vacation:—]

August 18, 1881.

My dear Donnelly,

I am astonished that you don't known that a letter to a Dean ought to be addressed "The Very Reverend." I don't generally stand much upon etiquette, but when my sacred character is touched I draw the line.

We had athletics here yesterday, and as it was a lovely day, all Cumberland and Westmoreland sent contingents to see the fun...

This would be a grand place if it were drier, but the rain it raineth every day—yesterday being the only really fine day since our arrival.

However, we all thrive, so I suppose we are adapting ourselves to the medium, and shall be scaly and finny before long.

Haven't you done with Babylon yet? It is high time you were out of it.

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

CHAPTER 2.13.

1882.

[The year 1882 was a dark year for English science. It was marked by the death of both Charles Darwin and of Francis Balfour, the young investigator, of whom Huxley once said,] "He is the only man who can carry out my work." [The one was the inevitable end of a great career, in the fulness of time; the other was one of those losses which are the more deplorable as they seem unnecessary, the result of a chance slip, in all the vigour of youth. I remember his coming to our house just before setting out on his fatal visit to Switzerland, and my mother begging him to be careful about risking so valuable a life as his in dangerous ascents. He laughingly replied that he only wanted to conquer one little peak on Montblanc. A few days later came the news of his fatal fall upon the precipices of the Aiguille Blanche. Since the death of Edward Forbes, no loss outside the circle of his family had affected my father so deeply. For three days he was utterly prostrated, and was scarcely able either to eat or sleep.

There was indeed a subtle affinity between the two men. My mother, who was greatly attached to Francis Balfour, said once to Sir M. Foster, "He has not got the dash and verve, but otherwise he reminds me curiously of what my husband was in his 'Rattlesnake' days." "How strange," replied Sir Michael, "when he first came to the front, Lankester wrote asking me, 'Who is this man Balfour you are always talking about?' and I answered, 'Well, I can only describe him by saying he is a younger Huxley.'"

Writing to Dr. Dohrn on September 24, Huxley says:—]

Heavy blows have fallen upon me this year in losing Darwin and Balfour, the best of the old and the best of the young. I am beginning to feel older than my age myself, and if Balfour had lived I should have cleared out of the way as soon as possible, feeling that the future of Zoological Science in this country was very safe in his hands. As it is, I am afraid I may still be of use for some years, and shall be unable to sing my "Nunc dimittis" with a good conscience.]

Darwin was in correspondence with him till quite near the end; having received the volume "Science and Culture," he wrote on January 12, 1882:—

With respect to automatism (The allusion is to the 1874 address on "Animals as Automata," which was reprinted in "Science and Culture."), I wish that you could review yourself in the old, and, of course, forgotten, trenchant style, and then you would have to answer yourself with equal incisiveness; and thus, by Jove, you might go on ad infinitum to the joy and instruction of the world.

And again on March 27:—

Your most kind letter has been a real cordial to me...once again accept my cordial thanks, my dear old friend. I wish to God there were more automata in the world like you.

Darwin died on April 19, and a brief notice being required for the forthcoming number of "Nature" on the 27th, Huxley made shift to write a brief article, which is printed in the "Collected Essays" 2 page 244. But as neither he nor Sir Joseph Hooker could at the moment undertake a regular obituary notice, this was entrusted to Professor Romanes, to whom the following letters were written.]

4 Marlborough Place, April 26, 1882.

My dear Romanes,

Thank you for your hearty letter. I spent many hours over the few paragraphs I sent to "Nature," in trying to express what all who thoroughly knew and therefore loved Darwin, must feel in language which should be absolutely free from rhetoric or exaggeration.

I have done my best, and the sad thing is that I cannot look for those cheery notes he used to send me in old times, when I had written anything that pleased him.

In case we should miss one another to-day, let me say that it is impossible for me to undertake the obituary in "Nature." I have a conglomeration of business of various kinds upon my hands just now. I am sure it will be very safe in your hands.

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

Pray do what you will with what I have written in "Nature."

4 Marlborough Place, May 9, 1882.

My dear Romanes,

I feel it very difficult to offer any useful criticism on what you have written about Darwin, because, although it does not quite please me, I cannot exactly say how I think it might be improved. My own way is to write and rewrite things, until by some sort of instinctive process they acquire the condensation and symmetry which satisfies me. And I really could not say how my original drafts are improved until they somehow improve themselves.

Two things however strike me. I think there is too much of the letter about Henslow. I should be disposed to quote only the most characteristic passages.

The other point is that I think strength would be given to your panegyric by a little pruning here and there.

I am not likely to take a low view of Darwin's position in the history of science, but I am disposed to think that Buffon and Lamarck would run him hard in both genius and fertility. In breadth of view and in extent of knowledge these two men were giants, though we are apt to forget their services. Von Baer was another man of the same stamp; Cuvier, in a somewhat lower rank, another; and J. Muller another.

"Colossal" does not seem to me to be the right epithet for Darwin's intellect. He had a clear rapid intelligence, a great memory, a vivid imagination, and what made his greatness was the strict subordination of all these to his love of truth.

But you will be tired of my carping, and you had much better write what seems right and just to yourself.

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

[Two scientific papers published this year were on subjects connected with his work on the fisheries, one "A Contribution to the Pathology of the Epidemic known as the 'Salmon Disease'" read before the Royal Society on the occasion of the Prince of Wales being admitted a Fellow (February 21; "Proceedings of the Royal Society" 33 pages 381-389); the other on "Saprolegnia in relation to the Salmon Disease" ("Quarterly Journal of Microscopical Science" 22 pages 311-333). A third, at the Zoological Society, was on the "Respiratory Organs of Apteryx" ("Proceedings of the Zoological Society" 1882 pages 560-569). He delivered an address before the Liverpool Institution on "Science and Art in Relation to Education" ("Collected Essays" 3 page 160), and was busy with the Medical Acts Commission, which reported this year.

The aim of this Commission was to level up the varying qualifications bestowed by nearly a score of different licensing bodies in the United Kingdom, and to establish some central control by the State over the licensing of medical practitioners. (For a fuller account of this Commission and the part played in it by Huxley, see his "State and Medical Education" ("Collected Essays" 3 323) published 1884.)

The report recommended the establishment of Boards in each division of the United Kingdom containing representatives of all the medical bodies in the division. These boards would register students, and admit to a final examination those who had passed the preliminary and minor examinations at the various universities and other bodies already granting degrees and qualifications. Candidates who passed this final examination would be licensed by the General Medical Council, a body to be elected no longer by the separate bodies interested in medical education, but by the Divisional Boards.

The report rejected a scheme for joint examination by the existing bodies, assisted by outside examiners appointed by a central authority, on the ground of difficulty and expense, as well as one for a separate State examination. It also provided for compensation from the fees to be paid by the candidates to existing bodies whose revenues might suffer from the new scheme.

To this majority report, six of the eleven Commissioners appended separate reports, suggesting other methods for carrying out the desired end. Among the latter was Huxley, who gave his reasons for dissenting from the principle assumed by his colleagues, though he had signed the main report as embodying the best means of carrying out a reform, that principle being granted.]

"The State examination" [he thought,] "was ideally best, but for many reasons impossible." [But the] "conjoint scheme" [recommended in the report appeared to punish the efficient medical authorities for the abuses of the inefficient. Moreover, if the examiners of the Divisional Board did not affiliate themselves to any medical authority, the compensation to be provided would be very heavy; if they did,] "either they will affiliate without further examination, which will give them the pretence of a further qualification, without any corresponding reality, or they will affiliate in examination, in which case the new examination deprecated by the general voice of the profession will be added, and any real difference between the plan proposed and the 'State examination' scheme will vanish."

[The compensation proposed too, would chiefly fall to the discredited bodies, who had neglected their duties.]

The scheme [he writes in his report], which I ventured to suggest is of extreme simplicity; and while I cannot but think that it would prove thoroughly efficient, it interferes with no fair vested interest in such a manner as to give a claim for compensation, and it inflicts no burden either in the way of taxation or extra examination on the medical profession.

This proposal is, that if any examining body satisfies the Medical Council (or other State authority), that it requires full and efficient instruction and examination in the three branches of medicine, surgery, and midwifery; and if it admits a certain number of coadjutor examiners appointed by the State authority, the certificate of that authority shall give admission to the Medical Register.

I submit that while the adopting this proposal would secure a practically uniform minimum standard of examination, it would leave free play to the individuality of the various existing or future universities and medical corporations; that the revenues of such bodies derived from medical examinations would thenceforth increase or diminish in the ratio of their deserts; that a really efficient inspection of the examinations would be secured, and that no one could come upon the register without a complete qualification.

[That there was no difficulty in this scheme was shown by the experience of the Scotch Universities; and the expense would be less than the proposed compensation tax.

The chief part of the summer vacation Huxley spent at Lynton, on the north coast of Devonshire.] "The Happy Family," [he writes to Dr. Dohrn,] "has been spending its vacation in this pretty place, eighteen miles of up hill and down dale from any railway." [It was a country made for the long rambles he delighted in after the morning's due allowance of writing. And although he generally preferred complete quiet on his holidays, with perfect freedom from all social exigencies, these weeks of rest were rendered all the pleasanter by the unstudied and unexacting friendliness of the family party which centred around Mr. and Mrs. F. Bailey of Lee Abbey hard by—Lady Tenterden, the Julius and the Henry Pollocks, the latter old friends of ours.

Though his holiday was curtailed at either end, he was greatly set up by it, and writes to chaff his son-in-law for taking too little rest:—]

I was glad to hear that F. had stood his fortnight's holiday so well; three weeks might have knocked him up!

[On the same day, September 26, he wrote the letter to Dr. Dohrn, mentioned above, answering two inquiries—one as to arrangements for exhibiting at the Fisheries Exhibition to be held in London the following year, the other as to whether England would follow the example of Germany and Italy in sending naval officers to the Zoological Station at Naples to be instructed in catching and preserving marine animals for the purposes of scientific research.

[With respect to question Number 2, I am afraid my answer must be less hopeful. So far as the British Admiralty is represented by the ordinary British admiral, the only reply to such a proposition as you make that I should expect would be that he (the British admiral, to wit) would see you d—d first. However, I will speak of the matter to the Hydrographer, who really is interested in science, at the first opportunity.

[For many years before this, and until the end of his life, there was another side to his correspondence which deserves mention.

I wish that more of the queer letters, which arrived in never-failing streams, had been preserved. A favourite type was the anonymous letter. It prayed fervently, over four pages, that the Almighty would send him down quick into the pit, and was usually signed simply "A Lady." Others came from cranks of every species: the man who demonstrated that the world was flat, or that the atmosphere had no weight—an easy proof, for you weigh a bottle full of air; then break it to pieces, so that it holds nothing; weigh the pieces, and they are the same weight as the whole bottle full of air! Or, again, that the optical law of quality between the angle of incidence and the angle of reflection is a delusion, whence it follows that all our established latitudes are incorrect, and the difference of temperature between Labrador and Ireland, nominally on the same parallel, is easily accounted for. Then came the suggestions of little pieces of work that might so easily be undertaken by a man of Huxley's capacity, learning, and energy. Enormous manuscripts were sent him with a request that he would write a careful criticism of them, and arrange for their publication in the proceedings of some learned society or first-rate magazine. One of the most delightful came this year. A doctor in India, having just read "John Inglesant," begged Professor Huxley to do for Science what Mr. Shorthouse had done for the Church of England. As for the material difficulties in the way of getting such a book written in the midst of other work, the ingenious doctor suggested the use of a phonograph driven by a gas-engine. The great thoughts dictated into it from the comfort of an armchair, could easily be worked up into novel shape by a collaborator.

India, again, provided the following application of 1885, made in all seriousness by a youthful Punjaubee with scientific aspirations, who feared to be forced into the law. After an intimate account of his life, he modestly appeals for a post in some scientific institution, where he may get his food, do experiments three or four hours a day, and learn English. Latterly his mental activity had been very great:—"I have been contemplating," he says, "to give a new system of Political Economy to the world. I have questioned, perhaps with success, the validity of some of the fundamental doctrines of Herbert Spencer's synthetic philosophy," and so on.

Another remarkable communication is a reply-paid telegram from the States, in 1892, which ran as follows:—

Unless all reason and all nature have deceived me, I have found the truth. It is my intention to cross the ocean to consult with those who have helped me most to find it. Shall I be welcome? Please answer at my expense, and God grant we all meet in life on earth.

Another, of British origin this time, was from a man who had to read a paper before a local Literary Society on the momentous question, "Where are we?" so he sent round a circular to various authorities to reinforce his own opinions on the six heads into which he proposed to divide his discourse, namely:

Where are we in Space?

Where are we in Science?

Where are we in Politics?

Where are we in Commerce?

Where are we in Sociology?

Where are we in Theology?

The writer received an answer, and a mild one:—]

Any adequate reply to your inquiry would be of the nature of a treatise, and that, I regret, I cannot undertake to write.

[Two letters of this year touch on Irish affairs, in which he was always interested, having withal a certain first-hand knowledge of the people and the country they lived in, from his visits there, both as a Fishery Commissioner and on other occasions. He writes warmly to the historian who treated of Ireland without prejudice or rancour.]

4 Marlborough Place, April 16, 1882.

My dear Lecky,

Accept my best thanks for your two volumes, which I found on my return from Scotland yesterday.

I can give no better evidence of my appreciation of their contents than by the confession that they have caused me to neglect my proper business all yesterday evening and all to-day.

The section devoted to Irish affairs is a model of lucidity, and bears on its face the stamp of justice and fair dealing. It is a most worthy continuation of the chapter on the same subject in the first volume, and that is giving high praise.

You see I write as if I knew something about the subject, but you are responsible for creating the delusion.

With kindest remembrances to Mrs. Lecky,

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

[A few weeks later, the murder of Lord Frederick Cavendish sent a thrill of horror throughout England. Huxley was as deeply moved as any, but wrote calmly of the situation.

To his eldest son:—]

4 Marlborough Place, May 9, 1882.

My dear Leonard,

Best thanks for your good wishes [For his birthday, May 4.]. Notwithstanding the disease of A.D., which always proves mortal sooner or later, I am in excellent case...

I knew both Lord F. Cavendish and his wife and Mr. Burke. I have never been able to get poor Lady Frederick out of my head since the news arrived.

The public mind has been more stirred than by anything since the Indian Mutiny. But if the Government keep their heads cool, great good may come out of the evil, horrible as it is. The Fenians have reckoned on creating an irreparable breach between England and Ireland. It should be our business to disappoint them first and extirpate them afterwards. But the newspaper writers make me sick, especially the "Times".

Ever your affectionate father,

T.H. Huxley.

[It is interesting, also, to see how he appeared about this time to one of a younger generation, acute, indeed, and discriminating, but predisposed by circumstances and upbringing to regard him at first with curiosity rather than sympathy. For this account I am indebted to one who has the habit, so laudable in good hands, of keeping a journal of events and conversations. I have every confidence in the substantial accuracy of so well trained a reporter.

EXTRACT FROM JOURNAL.

November 25, 1882.

In the evening we dined at the —'s, chiefly a family party with the addition of Professor Huxley and his wife and ourselves. Much lively conversation, after dinner, begun among the ladies, but continued after the gentlemen appeared, on the subjects of Truth, Education, and Women's Rights, or, more strictly speaking, women's capabilities. Our hostess (Lady —) was, if possible, more vehement and paradoxical than her wont, and vigorously maintained that TRUTH was no virtue in itself, but must be inculcated for expediency's sake. The opposite view found a champion in Professor Huxley, who described himself as] "almost a fanatic for the sanctity of truth." [Lady — urged that truth was often a very selfish virtue, and that a man of noble and unselfish character might lie for the sake of a friend, to which some one replied that after a course of this unselfish lying the noble character was pretty sure to deteriorate, while the Professor laughingly suggested that the owner had a good chance of finding himself landed ultimately in Botany Bay.

The celebrated instance of John Inglesant's perjury for the sake of Charles I. was then brought forward, and it was this which led Professor Huxley to say that in his judgment no one had the right passively to submit to a false accusation, and that] "moral suicide" [was as blameworthy as physical suicide.] "He may refuse to commit another, but he ought not to allow himself to be believed worse than he actually is. It is a loss to the world of MORAL FORCE, which cannot be afforded."

[...Then as regards women's powers. The Professor said he did not believe in their ever succeeding in a competition with men. Then he went on:—] "I can't help looking at women with something of the eye of a physiologist. Twenty years ago I thought the womanhood of England was going to the dogs," [but now, he said, he observed a wonderful change for the better. We asked to what he attributed it. Was it to lawn tennis and the greater variety of bodily exercises?] "Partly," [he answered,] "but much more to their having more PURSUITS—more to interest them and to occupy their thoughts and time."

[The following letter bears upon the question of employing retired engineer officers in administrative posts in the Science and Art Department:—]

The Rookery, Lynton, September 19, 1882.

My dear Donnelly,

Your letter seems to have arrived here the very day I left for Whitby, whither I had to betake myself to inspect a weir, so I did not get it until my return last night.

I am extremely sorry to hear of the possibility of Martin's giving up his post. He took so much interest in the work and was so very pleasant to deal with, that I do not think we shall easily find any one to replace him.

If you will find another R.E. at all like him, in Heaven's name catch him and put him in, job or no job.

The objection to a small clerk is that we want somebody who knows how to deal with men, and especially young men on the one hand, and especially cantankerous (more or less) old scientific buffers on the other.

The objection to a man of science is that (1) we want a man of business and not a m.s., and (2) that no man scientifically worth having that I know of is likely to take such an office.

"As at present advised" I am all for an R.E., so I cannot have the pleasure even of trying to convert you.

With our united kindest regards,

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

I return next Monday.

[Two letters of thanks follow, one at the beginning of the year to Mr. Herbert Spencer for the gift of a very fine photograph of himself; the other, at the end of the year, to Mr. (afterwards Sir John) Skelton, for his book on Mary Queen of Scots and the Casket Letters.

As to the former, it must be premised that Mr. Spencer abhorred exaggeration and inexact talk, and would ruthlessly prick the airy bubbles which endued the conversation of the daughters of the house with more buoyancy than strict logic, a gift which, he averred, was denied to woman.]

4 Marlborough Place, January 25, 1882.

My dear Spencer,

Best thanks for the photograph. It is very good, though there is just a touch of severity in the eye. We shall hang it up in the dining-room, and if anybody is guilty of exaggerated expressions or bad logic (five womenkind habitually sit round that table), I trust they will feel that that eye is upon them.

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

4 Marlborough Place, January 31, 1882.

My dear Skelton,

If I may not thank you for the book you have been kind enough to send me, I may at any rate wish you and Mrs. Skelton a happy New Year and many on 'em.

I am going to read your vindication of Mary Stuart as soon as I can. Hitherto I am sorry to say I have classed her with Eve, Helen, Cleopatra, Delilah, and sundry other glorious —s who have lured men to their destruction.

But I am open to conviction, and ready to believe that she blew up her husband only a little more thoroughly than other women do, by reason of her keener perception of logic.

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

CHAPTER 2.14.

1883.

[The pressure of official work, which had been constantly growing since 1880, reached its highest point in 1883. Only one scientific memoir was published by him this year, and then no more for the next four years. (Contributions to Morphology, Ichthyopsida, Number 2. On the Oviducts of Osmerus; with remarks on the relations of the Teleostean with the Ganoid Fishes "Proceedings of the Zoological Society" 1883 pages 132-139). The intervals of lecturing and examining were chiefly filled by fishery business, from which, according to his usual custom when immersed in any investigation, he chose the subject, "Oysters and the Oyster Question," both for his Friday evening discourse at the Royal Institution on May 11, and for his course to Working Men between January 8 and February 12.

There are the usual notes of all seasons at all parts of England. A deserted hotel at Cromer in January was uninviting.]

My windows look out on a wintry sea, and it is bitter cold. Notwithstanding, a large number of the aquatic gentleman to whom I shall have the pleasure of listening, by and by, are loafing against the railings opposite, as only fishermen can loaf.

[In April he had been ill, and his wife begged him to put off some business which had to be done at York. But unless absolutely ordered to bed by his doctor, nothing would induce him to put personal convenience before public duty. However, he took his son to look after him.]

I am none the worse for my journey [he writes from York], rather the better; so Clark is justified, and I should have failed in my duty if I had not come. H. Looks after me almost as well as you could do.

[To make amends, fishery business in the west country during a fine summer had] "a good deal of holiday in it," [though a cross journey at the beginning of August from Abergavenny to Totness made him write:—]

If ever (except to-morrow, by the way) I travel within measurable distance of a Bank Holiday by the Great Western, may jackasses sit on my grandmother's grave.

[As the business connected with the Inspectorship had been enlarged in the preceding years by exhibitions at Norwich and Edinburgh, so it was enlarged this year, and to a still greater extent, by the Fisheries Exhibition in London. This involved upon him as Commissioner, not only the organisation of the Conference on Fish Diseases and the paper on the Diseases of Fish already mentioned, but administration, committee meetings, and more—a speech on behalf of the Commissioners in reply to the welcome given them by the Prince of Wales at the opening of the Exhibition. On the following day he expressed his feelings at this mode of spending his time in a letter to Sir M. Foster.]

I am dog-tired with yesterday's function. Had to be at the Exhibition in full fig at 10 a.m., and did not get home from the Fishmongers' dinner till 1.20 this morning.

Will you tell me what all this has to do with my business in life, and why the last fragments of a misspent life that are left to me are to be frittered away in all this drivel?

Yours savagely,

T.H. Huxley.

[Later in the year, also, he had to serve on another Fishery Commission much against his will, though on the understanding that, in view of his other engagements, he need not attend all the sittings.

A more satisfactory result of the Exhibition was that he found himself brought into close contact with several of the great city companies, whose enormous resources he had long been trying, not without some success, to enlist on behalf of technical and scientific education.

Among these may be noted the Fishmongers, the Mercers, who had already interested themselves in technical education, and gave their hall for the meetings of the City and Guilds Council, of which Huxley was an active member; the Clothworkers, in whose schools he distributed the prizes this year; and, not least, the Salters, who presented him with their freedom on November 13. Their master, Mr. J.W. Clark, writing in August, after Huxley had accepted their proposal, says: "I think you must admit that the City Companies have yielded liberally to the gentle compassion you have exercised on them. So far from helping you to act the traitor, we propose to legitimise your claim for education, which several of us shall be willing to unite with you in promoting." (See above.)

The crowning addition, however, to Huxley's official work was the Presidency of the Royal Society. He had resigned the Secretaryship in 1880, after holding office for nine years under three Presidents—Airy, Hooker, and Spottiswoode. Spottiswoode, like Hooker, was a member of the x Club, and was regarded with great affection and respect by Huxley, who in 1887 wrote of him to Mr. John Morley:—]

It is quite absurd you don't know Spottiswoode, and I shall do both him and you a good turn by bringing you together. He is one of my best friends, and comes under the A1 class of "people with whom you may go tiger-hunting."

[On June 7, writing to Professor (afterwards Sir E.) Frankland, he says:—]

You will have heard that Spottiswoode is seriously ill. The physicians suspect typhoid, but are not quite certain. I called this morning, and hear that he remains much as he has been for the last two or three days. So many of our friends have dropped away in the course of the last two years that I am perhaps morbidly anxious about Spottiswoode, but there is no question that his condition is such as to cause grave anxiety.

[But by the end of the month his fears were realised. Consequently it devolved upon the Council of the Royal Society to elect one of their own body to hold office until the St. Andrew's Day following, when a regular President would be elected at a general meeting of the Society.

Huxley himself had no wish to stand. He writes to Sir M. Foster on June 27, announcing Spottiswoode's death, which had taken place that morning:—]

It is very grievous in all ways. Only the other day he and I were talking of the almost miraculous way in which the x Club had held together without a break for some 18 years, and little did either of us suspect that he would be the first to go.

A heavy responsibility falls on you in the Royal Society. It strikes me you will have to call another meeting of the Council before the recess for the consideration of the question of the Presidency. It is hateful to talk of these things, but I want you to form some notion of what had best be done as you come up to-morrow.

— is a possibility, but none of the other officers, I think.

[Indeed, he wished to diminish his official distractions rather than to increase them. His health was unlikely to stand any additional strain, and he longed to devote the remainder of his working years to his unfinished scientific researches. But he felt very strongly that the President of the Royal Society ought to be chosen for his eminence in science, not on account of social position, or of wealth, even though the wealth might have been acquired through the applications of science. The acknowledgment of this principle had led some years back to the great revolution from within, which succeeded in making the Society the living centre and representative of science for the whole country, and he was above all things anxious that the principle should be maintained. He was assured, however, from several quarters that unless he allowed himself to be put forward, there was danger lest the principle should be disregarded.

Moved by these considerations of public necessity, he unwillingly consented to be nominated, but only to fill the vacancy till the general meeting, when the whole Society could make a new choice. Yet even this limitation seemed difficult to maintain in the face of the widely expressed desire that he would then stand for the usual period of five years.] "The worst of it is," [he wrote to Sir M. Foster on July 2,] "that I see myself gravitating towards the Presidency en permanence, that is to say, for the ordinary period. And that is what I by no means desired. — has been at me (as a sort of deputation, he told me, from a lot of the younger men) to stand. However, I suppose there is no need to come to any decision yet."

[The following letters, in reply to congratulations on his election, illustrate his attitude of mind in the affair:—]

To the Warden of Merton.

Hindhead, July 8, 1883.

My dear Brodrick,

I do not get so many pleasant letters that I can afford to leave the senders of such things unthanked.

I am very much obliged for your congratulations, and I may say that I accepted the office inter alia for the purpose of getting people to believe that such places may be properly held by people who have neither riches nor station—who want nothing that statesmen can give—and who care for nothing except upholding the dignity and the freedom of science.

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

To Sir W.H. Flower, F.R.S.

4 Marlborough Place, July 7, 1883.

My dear Flower,

I am overwhelmed by the kind letters I get from all sides, and I need hardly say that I particularly value yours.

A month ago I said that I ought not, could not, and would not take the Presidency under any circumstances whatever. My wife was dead against it, and you know how hen-pecked I am.

Even when I was asked to take the Presidency to the end of the year and agreed, I stipulated for my freedom next St. Andrew's Day.

But such strong representations were made to me by some of the younger men about the dangers of the situation, that at the last moment almost I changed my mind.

However, I wanted it to be clearly understood that the Council and the Society are, so far as I am concerned, perfectly free to put somebody else in my place next November. All I stipulate for is that my successor shall be a man of science.

I will not, if I can help it, allow the chair of the Royal Society to become the appanage of rich men, or have the noble old Society exploited by enterprising commercial gents who make their profit out of the application of science.

Mrs. President was NOT pleased—quite the contrary—but she is mollified by the kindly expressions, public and private, which have received the election.

And there are none which we both value more than yours. (I see I said that before, but I can't say it too often.)

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

Hindhead, July 8, 1883.

My dear Flower,

Many thanks for your comforting letter. When I am fairly committed to anything I generally have a cold fit—and your judgment that I have done right is "grateful and comforting" like Epps' Cocoa. It is not so much work as distraction that is involved; and though it may put a stop to my purely scientific work for a while, I don't know that I could be better employed in the interests of science than in trying to keep the Royal Society straight.

My wife was very much against it at first—and indeed when I was first spoken to I declared that I would not go on after next St. Andrew's Day. But a good deal of pressure was brought to bear by some of my friends, and if the Fellows don't turn me out I shall say with MacMahon, "J'y suis et j'y reste."

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

We have run down here for a day, but are back to-morrow.

4 Marlborough Place, July 10, 1883.

My dear Spencer,

What an agreeable surprise your letter has been. I have been expecting the most awful scolding for taking more work, and behold as sweetly congratulatory an epistle as a man could wish.

Three weeks ago I swore by all my gods that I would not take the offer at any price, but I suppose the infusion of Theism was too homeopathic for the oath to bind.

Go on sleeping, my dear friend. If you are so amiable with three nights, what will you be with three weeks?

What a shame no rain is sent you. You will be speaking about Providence as I heard of a Yankee doing the other day—"Wal, sir, I guess he's good; but he's careless."

I think there is a good deal in that view of the government of the world.

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

[To his eldest daughter:—]

4 Marlborough Place, July 14, 1883.

Dearest Jess,

I am not sure either whether my accession to the Presidency is a matter for congratulation. Honour and glory are all very fine, but on the whole I prefer peace and quietness, and three weeks ago I declared I would have nothing to do with it.

But there are a good many circumstances in the present state of affairs which weighed heavily in the scale, and so I made up my mind to try the experiment.

If I don't suit the office or the office doesn't suit me, there is a way out every 30th of November.

There was more work connected with the Secretaryship—but there is more trouble and responsibility and distraction in the Presidency.

I am amused with your account of your way of governing your headstrong boy. I find the way of governing headstrong men to be very similar, and I believe it is by practising the method that I get the measure of success with which people credit me.

But they are often very fractious, and it is a bother for a man who was meant for a student.

Poor Spottiswoode's death was a great blow to me. Never was a better man, and I hoped he would stop where he was for the next ten years...

Ever your loving father,

T.H. Huxley.

[He finally decided that the question of standing again in November must depend on whether this course was likely to cause division in the ranks of the Society. He earnestly desired to avoid anything like a contest for scientific honours (As he wrote a little later:—] "I have never competed in the way of honour in my life, and I cannot allow myself to be even thought of as in such a position now, where, with all respect to the honour and glory, they do not appear to me to be in any way equivalent to the burden. And I am not at all sure that I may not be able to serve the right cause outside the Chair rather than in it."); [he was almost morbidly anxious that the temporary choice of himself should not be interpreted as binding the electors in any way.

I give the following letters to show his sensitiveness on every question of honour and of public advantage:—]

Brechin Castle, Brechin, N.B., September 19, 1883.

My dear Foster,

We got here yesterday. The Commission does not meet till next week, so like the historical donkey of Jeshurun I have nothing to do but wax fat and kick in this excellent pasture.

At odd times lately my mind has been a good deal exercised about the Royal Society. I am quite willing to go on in the Chair if the Council and the Society wish it. But it is quite possible that the Council who chose me when the choice was limited to their own body, might be disposed to select some one else when the range of choice is extended to the whole body of the Society. And I am very anxious that the Council should be made to understand, when the question comes forward for discussion after the recess, that the fact of present tenancy constitutes no claim in my eyes.

The difficulty is, how is this to be done? I cannot ask the Council to do as they please, without reference to me, because I am bound to assume that that is what they will do, and it would be an impertinence to assume the contrary.

On the other hand, I should at once decline to be put in nomination again, if it could be said that by doing so I had practically forced myself either upon the Council or upon the Society.

Heaven be praised I have not many enemies, but the two or three with whom I have to reckon don't stick at trifles, and I should not like by any inadvertance to give them a handle.

I have had some thought of writing a letter to Evans [Sir John Evans, K.C.B., then Treasurer of the Royal Society.], such as he could read to the Council at the first meeting in October, at which I need not be present.

The subject could then be freely discussed, without any voting or resolution on the minutes, and the officers could let me know whether in their judgment it is expedient I should be nominated or not.

In the last case I should withdraw on the ground of my other occupations—which, in fact, is a very real obstacle, and one which looms large in my fits of blue-devils, which have been more frequent of late than they should be in holiday time.

Now, will you turn all this over in your mind? Perhaps you might talk it over with Stokes.

Of course I am very sensible of the honour of being P.R.S., but I should be much more sensible of the dishonour of being in that place by a fluke, or in any other way, than by the free choice of the Council and Society.

In fact I am inclined to think that I am morbidly sensitive on the last point; and so, instead of acting on my own impulse, as I have been tempted to do, I submit myself to your worship's wisdom.

I am not sure that I should not have been wiser if I had stuck to my original intention of holding office only till St. Andrew's Day.

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

Secretary of State, Home Department, October 3, 1883.

My dear Foster,

There was an Irish bricklayer who once bet a hodman he would not carry him up to the top of an exceeding high ladder in his hod. The hod man did it, but Paddy said, "I had great hopes, now, ye'd let me fall just about six rounds from the top."

I told the story before when I was up for the School Board, but it is so applicable to the present case that I can't help coming out with it again.

If you, dear good hodmen, would have but let me fall!

However, as the thing is to be, it is very pleasant to find Evans and Williamson and you so hearty in the process of elevation, and in spite of blue-devils I will do my best to "do my duty in the state of life I'm called to."

But I believe you never had the advantage of learning the Church Catechism.

If there is any good in what is done you certainly deserve the credit of it, for nothing but your letter stopped me from kicking over the traces at once. Do you see how Evolution is getting made into a bolus and oiled outside for the ecclesiastical swallow? [This refers to papers read before the Church Congress that year by Messrs. W.H. Flower and F. Le Gros Clarke.]

Ever thine,

Thomas, P.R.S.

[The same feeling appears in his anxiety as President to avoid the slightest appearance of committing the Society to debatable opinions which he supported as a private individual. Thus, although he had "personally, politically, and philosophically" no liking for Charles Bradlaugh, he objected on general grounds to the exclusion of Mrs. Besant and Miss Bradlaugh from the classes at University College, and had signed a memorial in their favour. On the other hand, he did not wish it to be asserted that the Royal Society, through its president, had thrown its influence into what was really a social and political, not a scientific question. He writes to Sir M. Foster on July 18:—]

It is very unlucky for me that I signed the memorial requesting the Council of University College to reconsider their decision about Mrs. Besant and Miss Bradlaugh when I was quite innocent of any possibility of holding the P.R.S.

I must go to the meeting of members to-day and define my position in the matter with more care, under the circumstances.

Mrs. Besant was a student in my teacher's class here last year, and a very well-conducted lady-like person; but I have never been able to get hold of the "Fruits of Philosophy," and do not know to what doctrine she has committed herself.

They seem to have excluded Miss Bradlaugh simply on the noscitur a sociis principle.

It will need all the dexterity I possess to stand up for the principle of religious and philosophical freedom, without giving other people a hold for saying I that have identified myself with Bradlaugh.

[It was the same a little later with the Sunday Society, which had offered him its presidency. He writes to the Honorary Secretary on February 11, 1884:—]

I regret that it is impossible for me to accept the office which the Sunday Society honours me by offering.

It is not merely a disinclination to add to the work which already falls to my share which leads me to say this. So long as I am President of the Royal Society, I shall feel bound to abstain from taking any prominent part in public movements as to the propriety of which the opinions of the Fellows of the Society differ widely.

My own opinions on the Sunday question are exactly what they were five-and-twenty years ago. They have not been hid under a bushel, and I should not have accepted my present office if I had felt that so doing debarred me from reiterating them whenever it may be necessary to do so.

But that is a different matter from taking a step which would, in the eyes of the public, commit the Royal Society, through its President, to one side of the controversy in which you are engaged, and in which I, personally, hope you may succeed as warmly as ever I did.

[One other piece of work during the first half of the year remains to be mentioned, namely, the Rede Lecture, delivered at Cambridge on June 12. This was a discourse on Evolution, based upon the consideration of the Pearly Nautilus.

He first traced the evolution of the individual from the ovum, and replied to the three usual objections raised to evolution, that it is impossible, immoral, and contrary to the argument of design, by replying to the first, that it does occur in every individual; to the second, that the morality which opposes itself to truth commits suicide; and to the third that Paley—the most interesting Sunday reading allowed him when a boy—had long since answered this objection.

Then he proceeded to discuss the evolution of the 100 species, all extinct but two, of Nautilus. The alternative theory of new construction, a hundred times over, is opposed alike to tradition and to sane science. On the other hand, evolution, tested by paleontology, proves a sound hypothesis. The great difficulty of science is in tracing every event to those causes which are in present operation; the hypothesis of evolution is analogous to what is going on now.

The summer was passed at Milford, near Godalming, in a house at the very edge of the heather country which from there stretches unbroken past Hindhead and into Wolmer Forest. So well did he like the place that he took it again the following year. But his holiday was like to have been spoilt at the beginning by the strain of an absurd adventure which involved much fatigue and more anxiety.]

I came back only last night [he writes to Sir M. Foster on August 1] from Paris, where I sped on Sunday night, in a horrid state of alarm from a cursed blundering telegram which led me to believe that Leonard (you know he got his first class to our great joy) who had left for the continent on Saturday, was ill or had had an accident.

[It was indeed a hurried journey. On receipt of the telegram, he rushed to Victoria only to miss the night mail. The booking-clerk suggested that he should drive to London Bridge, take train to Lewes, and thence take a fly to Newhaven, where he ought to catch a later boat. The problem was to catch the London Bridge train. There was barely a quarter of an hour, but thanks to a good horse and the Sunday absence of traffic, the thing was done, establishing, I believe, what the modern mind delights in, a record in cab-driving. Happily the anxiety at not finding his son in Paris was soon allayed by another telegram from home, where his son-in-law, the innocent sender of the original message, had meanwhile arrived. He writes to Sir M. Foster:—]

Judging by my scrawl, which is worse than usual, I should say the anxiety had left its mark, but I am none the worse otherwise.

[This was indeed the case. Other letters to Sir M. Foster show that he was unusually well, perhaps because he was really making holiday to some extent. Thus on August 16, he writes:—]

This is a lovely country, and I have been reading novels and walking about for the last four days. I must be all right, wind and limb, for I walked over twenty miles the day before yesterday, and except a blister on one heel, was none the worse.

[And again on September 12:—]

Have been very lazy lately, which means that I have done a great many things that I need not have done, and have left undone those which I ought to have done. Nowadays that seems to me to be the real definition of a holiday.

[For once he was not doing very much holiday work, though he was filing at the Rede Lecture to get it into shape for publication. The examinations for the Science and Art Department were over, and indeed he writes to Sir M. Foster:—]

Don't bother your head about the balance—now or hereafter. To tell you the truth I do so little in the Examiner business that I am getting ashamed of taking even the retaining fee, and you will do me a favour if you will ease my conscience.

[A week of fishery business in South Wales and Devon had] "a good deal of holiday in it." [for the rest:—]

I have just been put on Senate of University of London [a Crown nomination]. I tried hard to get Lord Granville to let me off—in fact I told him I could not attend the meetings except now and then, but there was no escape. I must have a talk with you about what is to be done there.

Item:

There is a new Fishery Commission that I also strongly objected to, but had to cave in so far as I agreed to attend some meetings in latter half of September.

[On this occasion Lord Granville had written back:—

11 Carlton House Terrace, July 28, 1883.

My dear Professor Huxley,

Clay, the great whist player, once made a mistake and said to his partner, "My brain is softening," the latter answered "Never mind, I will give you ten thousand pounds down for it, just as it is."

On that principle and backed up by Paget I shall write to Harcourt on Monday.

Yours sincerely,

Granville.

The Commission of course cut short the stay at Milford, and on September 12, he writes:—]

We shall leave this on Friday as my wife has some fal-lals to look after before we start for the north on Monday.

The worst of it is that it is not at all certain that the Commission will meet and do any work. However I am pledged to go, and I daresay that Brechin Castle is a very pleasant place to stay in.

[Lastly, he was thinking over the obituary notice of Darwin which he had undertaken to write for the Royal Society—though it did not appear till 1888—that on F. Balfour being written by Sir M. Foster.]

Highcroft House, Milford, Godalming, August 27, 1883.

My dear Foster,

I do not see anything to add or alter to what you have said about Balfour, except to get rid of that terrible word "urinogenital," which he invented, and I believe I once adopted, out of mere sympathy I suppose.

Darwin is on my mind, and I will see what can be done here by and by. Up to the present I have been filing away at the Rede Lecture. I believe that getting things into shape takes me more and more trouble as I get older—whether it is a loss of faculty or an increase of fastidiousness I can't say—but at any rate it costs me more time and trouble to get things finished—and when they are done I should prefer burning to publishing them.

Haven't you any suggestions to offer for Anniversary address? I think the Secretaries ought to draw it up, like a Queen's speech.

Mind we have a talk some day about University of London. I suppose you want an English Sorbonne. I have thought of it at times, but the Philistines are strong.

Weather jolly, but altogether too hot for anything but lying on the grass "under the tegmination of the patulous fage," as the poet observes.

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

[The remaining letters of this year are for the most part on Royal Society business, some of which, touching the anniversary dinner, may be quoted:—]

4 Marlborough Place, November 10, 1883.

My dear Foster,

...I have been trying to get some political and other swells to come to the dinner. Lord Mayor is coming—thought I would ask him on account of City and Guilds business—Lord Chancellor, probably, Courtney, M.P., promised, and I made the greatest blunder I ever made in all my life by thoughtlessly writing to ask Chamberlain (!!!) utterly forgetting the row with Tyndall. [Concerning the Lighthouses.]

By the mercy of Providence he can't come this year, though I must ask him next (if I am not kicked out for my sins before that), as he is anxious to come. Science ought to be in league with the Radicals...

Ever yours,

T.H. Huxley.

[He had made prompt confession as soon as he discovered his mistake, to Tyndall himself, who ultimately came to the dinner and proposed the health of his old friend Hirst.]

4 Marlborough Place, November 9, 1883.

My dear Tyndall,

I have been going to write to you for two or three days to ask you to propose Hirst's health as Royal Medallist on the 30th November. I am sure your doing so would give an extra value to the medal to him.

But now I realise the position of those poor devils I have seen in lunatic asylums and who believed they have committed the unforgivable sin. It came upon me suddenly in Waterloo Place this evening, that I had done so; and I went straight to the Royal Institution to make confession, and if possible get absolution. But I heard you had gone to Hindhead, and so I write.

Yesterday I was sending some invitations to the dinner on the 30th, and thinking to please the Society I made a shot at some ministers. The only two I know much about are Harcourt and Chamberlain, and the devil (in whom I now firmly believe) put it into my head to write to both.

The enormous stupidity of which I had been guilty in asking Chamberlain under the circumstances, and the sort of construction you and others might put upon it, never entered my head till this afternoon. It really made me ill, and I went straight to find you. If Providence is good to me the letter will miscarry and he won't come. But anyhow I want you to know that I have been idiotically stupid, and that I shall wish the Presidency and the dinner and everything connected with it at the bottom of the sea, if you are as much disgusted with me as you have a perfect right to be.

Ever yours faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

[The following refers to the Tyneside Sunday Lecture Society at Newcastle, which had invited him to become one of its vice-presidents:—]

4 Marlborough Place, N.W., December 30, 1883.

My dear Morley,

The Newcastle people wrote to me some time ago telling me that Sir W. Armstrong was going to be their President. [The actual words of the Secretary were "We have asked Sir W. Armstrong to be President," and Huxley was mistaken in supposing this intimation to imply that, as generally happens in such cases, Sir William had previously intimated his willingness to accept the position if formally asked.] Armstrong is an old friend of mine, so I wrote to him to make inquiries. He told me that he was not going to be President, and knew nothing about the people who were getting up the Society. So I declined to have anything to do with it.

However, the case is altered now that you are in the swim. You have no gods to swear by, unfortunately; but if you will affirm, in the name of X, that under no circumstances shall I be called upon to do anything, they may have my name among the V.-P.'s and much good may it do them.

All our good wishes to you and yours. The great thing one has to wish for as time goes on is vigour as long as one lives, and death as soon as vigour flags.

It is a curious thing that I find my dislike to the thought of extinction increasing as I get older and nearer the goal.

It flashes across me at all sorts of times with a sort of horror that in 1900 I shall probably know no more of what is going on than I did in 1800. I had sooner be in hell a good deal—at any rate in one of the upper circles where the climate and company are not too trying. I wonder if you are plagued in this way.

Ever yours,

T.H. Huxley.

[The following letters, to his family or to intimate friends, are in lighter vein. The first is to Sir M. Foster; the concluding item of information in reply to several inquiries. The Royal Society wished some borings made in Egypt to determine the depth of the stratum of Nile mud:—]

The Egyptian exploration society is wholly archaeological—at least from the cut of it I have no doubt it is so—and they want all their money to find out the pawnbrokers' shops which Israel kept in Pithom and Rameses—and then went off with the pledges.

This is the real reason why Pharaoh and his host pursued them; and then Moses and Aaron bribed the post-boys to take out the linch pins.

That is the real story of the Exodus—as detailed in a recently discovered papyrus which neither Brugsch nor Maspero have as yet got hold of.

[To his youngest daughter:—]

4 Marlborough Place, N.W., April 12, 1883.

Dearest Pabelunza,

I was quite overcome to-day to find that you had vanished without a parting embrace to your "faded but fascinating" parent. [A fragment of feminine conversation overheard at the Dublin meeting of the British Association, 1878. "Oh, there comes Professor Huxley: faded, but still fascinating."] I clean forgot you were going to leave this peaceful village for the whirl of Gloucester dissipation this morning—and the traces of weeping on your visage, which should have reminded me of our imminent parting, were absent.

My dear, I should like to have given you some good counsel. You are but a simple village maiden—don't be taken by the appearance of anybody. Consult your father—inclosing photograph and measurement (in inches)—in any case of difficulty.

Also give my love to the matron your sister, and tell her to look sharp after you. Treat her with more respect than you do your venerable P.—whose life will be gloom hidden by a film of heartless jests till you return.

Item.—Kisses to Ria and Co.

Your desolated Pater.

[To his eldest daughter:—]

4 Marlborough Place, May 6, 1883.

Dearest Jess,

Best thanks for your good wishes—considering all things, I am a hale old gentleman. But I had to speak last night at the Academy dinner, and either that or the quantity of cigars I smoked, following the bad example of our friend "Wales," has left me rather shaky to-day. It was trying, because Jack's capital portrait was hanging just behind me—and somebody remarked that it was a better likeness of me than I was. If you begin to think of that it is rather confusing.