Life and Letters of Thomas Henry Huxley — Volume 1

by Thomas Henry Huxley

CHAPTER 1.6.

1851-1854.

[The course pursued by the Government in the matter of Huxley's papers is curious and instructive. The Admiralty minute of 1849 had promised either money assistance for publishing or speedy promotion as an encouragement to scientific research in the Navy, especially by the medical officers. On leave to publish the scientific results of the expedition being asked for, the Department forestalled any request for monetary aid by an intimation that none would be given. Strong representations, however, from the leading scientific authorities induced them to grant the appointment to the "Fisguard" for six months.

The sequel shows how the departmental representatives of science did their best for science in Huxley's case, so far as in their power lay:—]

June 6, 1851.

The other day I received an intimation that my presence was required at Somerset House. I rather expected the mandate, as six months' leave was up. Sir William was very civil, and told me that the Commander of the "Fisguard" had applied to the Admiralty to know what was to be done with me, as my leave had expired. "Now," said he, "go to Forest" (his secretary), "write a letter to me, stating what you want, and I will get it done for you." So away I went and applied for an indefinite amount of leave, on condition of reporting the progress of my work every six months, and as I suppose I shall get it, I feel quite easy on that head.

[In May 1851 he applied to the Royal Society for help from the Government Grant towards publishing the bulk of his work as a whole, for much of its value would be lost if scattered fragmentarily among the Transactions of various learned societies. Personally, the members of the committee were very willing to make the grant, but on further consideration it appeared that the money was to be applied for promoting research, not for assisting publication; and moreover, it was desirable not to establish a precedent for saddling the funds at the disposal of the Society with all the publications which it was the clear duty of the Government to undertake. On this ground the application was refused, but at the same time it was resolved that the Government be formally asked to give the necessary subvention towards bringing out these valuable papers.

A similar resolution was passed at the Ipswich meeting of the British Association in July 1851, and at a meeting of its Council in March 1852 the President declared himself ready to carry it into effect by asking the Treasury for the needful 300 pounds sterling. But at the July meeting he could only report a non possumus answer for the current year (1852) from the Government, and a resolution was passed recommending that application on the subject be renewed by the British Association in the following year.

Meanwhile, weary of official delay, Huxley had conceived the idea of writing direct to the Duke of Northumberland, then First Lord of the Admiralty, whom he knew to take an interest in scientific research. At the same time he stirred Lord Rosse, the President of the Royal Society, to repeat his application to the Treasury. Although the Admiralty in April 1852 again refused money help, and bade him apply to the Royal Society for a portion of the Government Grant (which the latter had already refused him), the Hydrographer was directed to make inquiries as to the propriety of granting him an extension of leave. To his question asking the exact amount of time still required for finishing the work of publication, Huxley returned what he described as a "savage reply," that his experience of engravers led him to think that the plates could be published in eight or nine months from the receipt of a grant; that he had reason to believe this grant might soon be promised, but that the long delay was solely due to the remissness of those whose duty it was to represent his claims to the Government; and finally, that he must ask for a year's extension of leave.

For these expressions his conscience smote him when, on June 12, at a soiree of the Royal Society, Lord Rosse took him aside and informed him that he had seen Sir C. Trevelyan, the Under Secretary to the Treasury, who said there would be no difficulty in the matter if it were properly laid before the Prime Minister, Lord Derby. To Lord Derby therefore he went, and was told that Mr. Huxley should go to the Treasury and arrange matters in person with Trevelyan. At the same time the indignant tone of his letter to the Hydrographer seemed to have done good; he was invited to explain matters in person, and was granted the leave he asked for.

Everything now seemed to point to a speedy solution of his difficulties. The promise of a grant, of course, did nothing immediate, but assured him a good position, and settled all the scruples of the Admiralty with regard to time.] "You have no notion," [he writes,]" of the trouble the grant has cost me. It died a natural death till I wrote to the Duke in March, and brought it to life again. The more opposition there is, the more determined I am to carry it through." [But he was doomed to a worse disappointment than before. Trevelyan received him very civilly, but had heard nothing on the matter from Lord Derby, and accordingly sent him in charge of his private secretary to see Lord Derby's secretary. The latter had seen no papers relating to any such matter, and supposed Lord Derby had not brought them from St. James' Square, "but promised to write to me as soon as anything was learnt. I look upon it as adjourned sine die." Parliament breaking up immediately after gave the officials a good excuse for doing nothing more.

When his year's leave expired in June 1853, he wrote the following letter to Sir William Burnett:—]

As the period of my leave of absence from H.M.S. "Fisguard" is about to expire, I have the honour to report that the duty on which I have been engaged has been carried out, as far as my means permit, by the publication of a "Memoir upon the Homologies of the Cephalous Mollusca," with four plates, which appeared in the "Philosophical Transactions" for 1852 (published 1853), being the fourth memoir resulting from the observations made during the voyage of H.M.S. "Rattlesnake" which has appeared in these "Transactions."

I have the pleasure of being able to add that the President and Council of the Royal Society have considered these memoirs worthy of being rewarded by the Royal Medal in Physiology for 1852, which they did me the honour to confer in the November of that year.

I regret that no definite answer of any kind having as yet been given to the strong representations which were made by the Presidents both of the Royal Society and of the British Association in 1852 to H.M. Government—representations which have recently been earnestly repeated—in order to obtain a grant for the purpose of publishing the remainder of these researches in a separate form, I have been unable to proceed any further, and I beg to request a renewal of my leave of absence from H.M.S. "Fisguard," so that if H.M. Government think fit to give the grant applied for, it may be in my power to make use of it; or that, should it be denied, I may be enabled to find some other means of preventing the total loss of the labour of some years.

[Hereupon he was allowed six months longer, but with the intimation that no further leave would be granted. A final application from the scientific authorities resulted in fresh inquiries as to the length of time still required, and the deadlock between the two departments of State being unchanged, he replied to the same effect as before, but to no purpose. His formal application for leave in January 1854 was met by orders to join the "Illustrious" at Portsmouth. He appealed to the Admiralty that this appointment might be cancelled, giving a brief summary of the facts, and pointing out that it was the inaction of the Treasury which had absolutely prevented him from completing his work.]

I would therefore respectfully submit that, under these circumstances, my request to be permitted to remain on half-pay until the completion of the publication of the results of some years' toil is not wholly unreasonable. It is the only reward for which I would ask their Lordships, and indeed, considering the distinct pledge given in the minute to which I have referred, to grant it would seem as nearly to concern their Lordships' honour as my advantage.

[The counter to this bold stroke was crushing, if not convincing. He was ordered to join his ship immediately under pain of being struck off the Navy list. He was of course prepared for this ultimatum, and whether he could manage to pursue science in England or might be compelled to set up as a doctor in Sydney, he considered that he would be better off than as an assistant surgeon in the Navy. Accordingly he stood firm, and the threat was carried into effect in March 1854. An unexpected consequence followed. As long as he was in the navy, with direct claims upon a Government department for assistance in publishing his work, the Royal Society had not felt justified in allotting him any part of the Government Grant. But now that he had left the service, this objection was removed, and in June 1854 the sum of 300 pounds sterling was assigned for this purpose, while the remainder of the expense was borne by the Ray Society, which undertook the publication under the title of "Oceanic Hydrozoa." Thus he was able to record with some satisfaction how he at last has got the grant, though indirectly, from the Government, and considers it something of a triumph for the principle of the family motto, tenax propositi.

While these fruitless negotiations with the Admiralty were in progress, he had done a good deal, both in publishing what he could of his "Rattlesnake" work, and in trying to secure some scientific appointment which would enable him to carry out his two chief objects: the one his marriage, the other the unhampered pursuit of science. In addition to the papers sent home from the cruise—one on the Medusae, published in the "Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society" for 1849, and one on the Animal of Trigonia, published in the "Proceedings of the Zoological Society" for the same year—he had reported to the Admiralty in June 1851 the publication of seven memoirs:—

1. On the Auditory Organs of the Crustacea. Published in the "Annals of Natural History."

2. On the Anatomy of the genus Tethea. Published in the "Annals of Natural History."

3. Report upon the Development of the Echinoderms. To appear in the "Annals" for July.

4. On the Anatomy and Physiology of the Salpae, with four plates. Read at the Royal Society, and to be published in the next part of the "Philosophical Transactions."

5. On two Genera of Ascidians, Doliolum and Appendicularia, with one plate. Read at the Royal Society, and to be published in the next part of the "Philosophical Transactions."

6. On some peculiarities in the Circulation of the Mollusca. Sent to M. Milne-Edwards, at his request, to be published in the "Annales des Sciences."

7. On the Generative Organs of the Physophoridae and Diphydae. Sent to Professor Muller of Berlin for publication in his "Archiv."

By the end of the year he had four more to report:—

1. On the Hydrostatic Acalephae; 2. On the genus Sagitta, both published in the "Report of the British Association" for 1851; 3. On Lacinularia socialis, a contribution to the anatomy and physiology of the Rotifera, in the "Transactions of the Microscopical Society" 4. On Thalassicolla, a new zoophyte, in the "Annals of Natural History." Next year he read before the British Association a paper entitled "Researches into the Structure of the Ascidians," and a very important one on the Morphology of the Cephalous Mollusca, afterwards published in the "Philosophical Transactions." In addition he had prepared a great part of his longer work for publication; out of twenty-four or twenty-five plates, nineteen were ready for the engraver when he wrote his appeal to the Duke of Northumberland. In this same year, 1852, he was also awarded the Royal Medal in Physiology for the value of his contributions to the "Philosophical Transactions."

In 1853, besides seeing some of these papers through the press, he published one on the existence of Cellulose in the Tunic of Ascidians, read before the Microscopical Society, and two papers on the Structure of the Teeth; the latter, of course, like a paper of the previous year on Echinococcus, being distinct from the "Rattlesnake" work. The greater work on Oceanic Hydrozoa, over which the battle of the grant in aid had been waged so long, did not see the light until 1858, when his interest had been diverted from these subjects, and to return to them was more a burden than a pleasure.

In the second place, the years 1851-53, so full of profitless successes in pure science, and delusive hopes held out by the Government, were marked by an equally unsuccessful series of attempts to obtain a professorship. If a chair of Natural History had been established, as he hoped, in the projected university at Sydney, he would gladly have stood for it. Sydney was a second home to him; he would have been backed by the great influence of Macleay; and in his eyes a naturalist could not desire a finer field for his labours than the waters of Port Jackson. But this was not to be, and the first chair he tried for was the newly-instituted chair of Zoology at the University of Toronto. The vacancy was advertised in the summer of 1851; the pay of full 300 pounds sterling a year was enough to marry on; his friends reassured him as to his capacity to fill the post, which, moreover, did not debar him from the hope of returning some day to fill a similar post in England.]

1 Edward Street, St. John's Wood Terrace,

July 29 [1851].

My dear Henfrey,

I have been detained in town, or I hope we should long since have had our projected excursion.

What do you think of my looking out for a Professorship of Natural History at Toronto? Pay 350 pounds sterling, with chances of extra fees. I think that out there one might live comfortably upon that sum—possibly even do the domestic and cultivate the Loves and Graces as well as the Muses.

Seriously, however, I should like to know what you think of it. The choice of getting anything over here without devoting one's self wholly to Mammon, seems to me very small. At least it involves years of waiting.

Toronto is not very much out of the way, and the pay is decent and would enable me to devote myself wholly to my favourite pursuits. Were it in England, I could wish nothing better; and, as it is, I think it would answer my purpose very well for some years at any rate.

If they go fairly to work I think I shall have a very good chance of being elected; but I am told that these matters are often determined by petty intrigues.

Francis and I looked for you everywhere at the Botanic Gardens, and finding you were too wise to come, came here, grieving your absence, and had an aesthetic "Bier." [(Dr. William Francis, one of the editors of the "Philosophical Magazine," and a member of the publishing firm of Taylor and Francis.)

He obtained a remarkably strong set of testimonials from all the leading anatomists and physiologists in the kingdom, as well as one from Milne-Edwards in Paris.

I have put together [he writes] twelve or fourteen testimonials from the first men. I will have no other.

[His newly-obtained F.R.S. was a recommendation in itself. So that he writes:—]

There are, I learn, several other candidates, but no one I fear at all, if they only have fair play. There is no one of the others who can command anything like the scientific influence which is being exercised for me, whatever private influence they may have.

What makes all the big-wigs so marvellously zealous on my behalf I know not. I have sought none of them and flattered none of them, that I can say with a good conscience, and I think you know me well enough to believe it. I feel very grateful to them; and if it ever happens that I am able to help a young man on (when I am a big-wig myself!) I shall remember it.

[And again, September 23, 1851:—]

When I have once sent away my testimonials and done all that is to be done, I shall banish the subject from my mind and make myself quite easy as to results. For the present I confess to being somewhat anxious.

[Nevertheless, after many postponements, a near relative of an influential Canadian politician was at length appointed late in 1853. By an amusing coincidence, Huxley's newly-made friend, Tyndall, was likewise a candidate for a chair at Toronto, and likewise rejected. Two letters, concerning Tyndall's election to the Royal Society, contain references both to Toronto and to Sydney.]

4 Upper York Place, St. John's Wood

December 4 [1851].

My dear Sir,

I was greatly rejoiced to find I could be of service to you in any way, and I only regret, for your sake, that my name is not a more weighty one. Your election, I should think, can be a matter of no doubt.

As to Toronto, I confess I am not very anxious about it. Sydney would have been far more to my taste, and I confess I envy you what, as I hear, is the very good chance you have of going there.

It used to be our headquarters in the "Rattlesnake" and my home for three months in the year. Should you go, I should be very happy, if you like, to give you letters to some of my friends.

Greatly as I wish we had been destined to do our work together, I cannot but offer you the most hearty wishes for your success in Sydney.

Ever yours very faithfully,

Thomas H. Huxley.

John Tyndall, Esq.

41 North Bank, Regent's Park,

May 7, 1852.

My dear Tyndall,

Allow me to be one of the first to have the pleasure of congratulating you on your new honours. I had the satisfaction last night to hear your name read out as one of the selected of the Council of the Royal Society for election to the Fellowship this year, and you are therefore as good as elected.

I always made sure of your success, but I am not the less pleased that it is now a fait accompli.

I am, my dear Tyndall, faithfully yours,

T.H. Huxley.

P.S.—I have heard nothing of Toronto, and I begin to think that the whole affair, University and all, is a myth.

[His hopes of the Colonies failing, he tried each of the divisions of the United Kingdom in turn, with uniform ill-success; in 1852-53 at Aberdeen and at Cork; in 1853 at King's College, London. He had great hopes of Aberdeen at first; the appointment lay with the Home Secretary, a personal friend of Sir J. Clark, who was interested in Huxley though not personally acquainted with him. But no sooner had he written to urge the latter's claims than a change of ministry took place, and other influences commanded the field. It was cold comfort that Clark told him only to wait—something must turn up. There was still a great probability of the Toronto chair falling to a Cork professor; so with this in view, he gave up a trip to Chamounix with his brother, and attended the meeting of the British Association at Belfast in August 1852, in order to make himself known to the Irish men of science, for, as his friends told him, personal influence went for so much, and while most men's reputations were better than themselves, he might flatter himself that he was better than his reputation. But this, too, came to nothing, and the King's College appointment also went to the candidate who was backed by the most powerful influence.

A fatality seemed to dog his efforts; nevertheless he writes at the end of 1851:—]

Among my scientific friends the monition I get on all sides is that of
Dante's great ancestor to him—

A te sequi la tua stella.

If this were from personal friends only, I should disregard it; but it comes from men to whose approbation it would be foolish affectation to deny the highest value. I find myself treated on a footing of equality ("my proud self," as you may suppose, would not put up with any other) by men whose names and works have been long before the world. My opinions are treated with a respect altogether unaccountable to me, and what I have done is quoted as having full authority. Without canvassing a soul or making use of any influence, I have been elected into the Royal Society at a time when that election is more difficult than it has ever been in the history of the Society. Without my knowledge I was within an ace of getting the Royal Society medal this year, and if I go on I shall very probably get it next time.

[In 1852 he was not only to receive this coveted honour (See Chapter 7.), but also to be elected upon the Royal Society Council. In January 1852, when standing for Toronto, he describes how Colonel Sabine, then Secretary of the Royal Society, dissuaded him from the project, saying that a brilliant prospect lay before him if he would only wait.]

"Make up your mind to get something fairly within your reach, and you will have us all with you." Professor Owen again offers to do anything in his power for me; Professor Forbes will move heaven and earth for me if he can; Gray, Bell, and all the leading men are, I know, similarly inclined. Fate says wait, and you shall reach the goal which from a child you have set before yourself. On the other hand, a small voice like conscience speaks of one who is wasting youth and life away for your sake.

[Other friends, who, while recognising his general capacities, were not scientific, and had no direct appreciation of his superlative powers in science, thought he was following a course which would never allow him to marry, and urged him to give up his unequal battle with fate, and emigrate to Australia. Of this he writes on August 5, 1852, to Miss Heathorn:—]

I must make up my mind to it if nothing turns up. However, I look upon such a life as would await me in Australia with great misgiving. A life spent in a routine employment, with no excitement and no occupation for the higher powers of the intellect, with its great aspirations stifled and all the great problems of existence set hopelessly in the background, offers to me a prospect that would be utterly intolerable but for your love…Sometimes I am half mad with the notion of bringing all my powers in a surer struggle for a livelihood. Sometimes I am equally wild at thinking of the long weary while that has passed since we met. There are times when I cannot bear to think of leaving my present pursuits, when I feel I should be guilty of a piece of cowardly desertion from my duty in doing it, and there come intervals when I would give truth and science and all hopes to be folded in your arms…I know which course is right, but I never know which I may follow; help me…for there is only one course in which there is either hope or peace for me.

[These repeated disappointments deepened the fits of depression which constantly assailed him. He was torn by two opposing thoughts. Was it just, was it right, to demand so great a sacrifice from the woman who had entrusted her future to the uncertain chances of his fortunes? Could he ask her to go on offering up the best years of her life to aspirations of his which were possibly chimerical, or perhaps merely selfishness in disguise, which ought to yield to more imperative duties? Why not clip the wings of Pegasus, and descend to the sober, everyday jog-trot after plain bread and cheese like other plain people? Time after time he almost made up his mind to throw science to the winds; to emigrate and establish a practice in Sydney; to try even squatting or storekeeping. And yet he knew only too well that with his temperament no life would bring him the remotest approach to lasting happiness and satisfaction except one that gave scope to his intellectual passion. To yield to the immediate pressure of circumstances was perhaps ignoble, was even more probably a surer road to the loss of happiness for himself and for his wife than the repeated and painful sacrifices of the present. With all this, however, and the more when assured of her entire confidence in his judgment, he could not but feel a sense of remorse that she willingly accepted the sacrifice, and feared that she might have done so rather to gratify his wishes than because reason approved it as the right course to follow.

Here is another typical extract from his correspondence. Hearing that
Toronto is likely to go to a relative of a Canadian minister, he writes,
January 2, 1852:—]

I think of all my dreams and aspirations, and of the path which I know lies before me if I can only bide my time, and it seems a sin and a shameful thing to allow my resolve to be turned; and then comes the mocking suspicion, is this fine abstract duty of yours anything but a subtlety of your own selfishness? Have you not other more imperative duties?

You may fancy whether my life is a very happy one thus spent without even the satisfaction of the sense of right-doing. I must come to some resolution about it, and that shortly. I was talking seriously with Fanning the other night about the possibility of finding some employment of a profitable kind in Australia, storekeeping, squatting, or the like. As I told him, any change in my mode of life must be TOTAL. If I am to change at all, the change must be total and complete. I will not attempt my own profession. I should only be led astray to think and to work as of old, and sigh continually for my old dear and intoxicating pursuits. I wish I understood Brewing, and I would make a proposition to come and help your father. You may smile, but I am as serious as ever I was in my life.

[The distance between them made it doubly difficult to keep in touch with one another, when the post took from four and a half to five or even six months to reach England from Australia. The answer to a letter would come when the matter in question was long done with. The assurance that he was doing right at one moment seemed inadequate when circumstances had altered and hope sunk lower. It was all too easy to suspect that she did not understand his aims, his thirst for action, nor the fact that he was no longer free to do as he liked, whether to stay in the navy, to go into practice, or follow his own pursuits and pleasure. Yet it made him despair to be so hedged in by circumstances. With all his efforts, he seemed as though he had done nothing but earn the reputation of being a very promising young man. How much easier to continue the struggle if he could but have seen her face to face, and read her thoughts as to whether he were right or wrong in the course he was pursuing. He appeals to her faith that he is choosing the nobler path in pursuing knowledge, than in turning aside to the temptation of throwing it up for the sake of their speedier union. Still she was right in claiming a share in his work; but for her his life would have been wasted.

The clouds gathered very thickly about him when in April 1852 his mother died, while his father was hopelessly ill.] "Belief and happiness," [he writes,] "seem to be beyond the reach of thinking men in these days, but courage and silence are left." [Again the clouds lifted, for in October he received Miss Heathorn's] "noble and self-sacrificing letter, which has given me more comfort than anything for a long while," [the keynote of which was that a man should pursue those things for which he is most fitted, let them be what they will. He now felt free to tell the vicissitudes of thought and will he had passed through this twelvemonth, and how the idea of giving up all had affected him.] "The spectre of a wasted life has passed before me—a vision of that servant who hid his talent in a napkin and buried it."

[Early in 1853 he writes how much he was cheered by his sister's advice and encouragement to persist in the struggle; but the darkest moment was still to come. His hopes from his candidature crumbled away one after the other; his leave from the Admiralty was coming to an end, and there was small hope of renewing it; the grant from Government remained as unattainable as ever; the long struggle had taught him the full extent of his powers only, it seemed, to end by denying him all opportunity for their use.]

And so the card house I have been so laboriously building up these two years with all manner of hard struggling will be tumbled down again, and my small light will be ignominiously snuffed out like that of better men…I can submit if the fates are too strong. The world is no better than an arena of gladiators, and I, a stray savage, have been turned into it to fight my way with my rude club among the steel-clad fighters. Well, I have won my way into the front rank, and ought to be thankful and deem it only the natural order of things if I can get no further.

[And again in a letter of July 6, 1853:—]

I know that these three years have inconceivably altered me—that from being an idle man, only too happy to flow into the humours of the moment, I have become almost unable to exist without active intellectual excitement. I know that in this I find peace and rest such as I can attain in no other way. From being a mere untried fledgling, doubtful whether the wish to fly proceeded from mere presumption or from budding wings, I have now some confidence in well-tried pinions, which have given me rank among the strongest and foremost. I have always felt how difficult it was for you to realise all this—how strange it must be to you that though your image remained as bright as ever, new interests and purposes had ranged themselves around it, and though they could claim no pre-eminence, yet demanded their share of my thoughts. I make no apology for this—it is man's nature and the necessary influence of circumstances which will so have it; and depend, however painful our present separation may be, the spectacle of a man who had given up the cherished purpose of his life, the Esau who had sold his birthright for a mess of pottage and with it his self-respect, would before long years were over our heads be infinitely more painful. Depend upon it, the trust which you placed in my hands when I left you—to choose for both of us—has not been abused. Hemmed in by all sorts of difficulties, my choice was a narrow one, and I was guided more by circumstances than my own free will. Nevertheless the path has shown itself to be a fair one, neither more difficult nor less so than most paths in life in which a man of energy may hope to do much if he believes in himself, and is at peace within.

My course in life is taken. I will NOT leave London—I WILL make myself a name and a position as well as an income by some kind of pursuit connected with science, which is the thing for which nature has fitted me if she has ever fitted any one for anything. Bethink yourself whether you can cast aside all repining and all doubt, and devote yourself in patience and trust to helping me along my path as no one else could. I know what I ask, and the sacrifice I demand, and if this were the time to use false modesty, I should say how little I have to offer in return…

I am full of faults, but I am real and true, and the whole devotion of an earnest soul cannot be overprized.

…It is as if all that old life at Holmwood had merely been a preparation for the real life of our love—as if we were then children ignorant of life's real purpose—as if these last months had merely been my old doubts over again, whether I had rightly or wrongly interpreted the manner and the words that had given me hope…

We will begin the new love of woman and man, no longer that of boy and girl, conscious that we have aims and purposes as well as affections, and that if love is sweet life is dreadfully stern and earnest.

[As time went on and no permanency offered—although a good deal of writing fell in his way—the strain told heavily upon him. In the autumn he was quite out of sorts, body and mind, more at war with himself than he ever was in his life before. All this, he writes, had darkened his thoughts, had made him once more imagine a hopeless discrepancy between the two of them in their ways of thinking and objects in life. It was not till November 1853 that this depression was banished by the trust and confidence of her last letter.] "I wish to Heaven," [he writes,] "it had reached me six months ago. It would have saved me a world of pain and error." [But with this, the worst period of mental suffering was over, and every haunting doubt was finally exorcised. His career was made possible by the steady faith which neither separation nor any misgiving nor its own troubles could shake. And from this point all things began to brighten. His health had been restored by a trip to the Pyrenees with his brother George in September. He had got work that enabled him to regard the Admiralty and its menaces with complete equanimity; a "Manual of Comparative Anatomy," for Churchhill the publisher, regular work on the "Westminster," and another book in prospect,] "so that if I quit the Service to-morrow, these will give me more than my pay has been." [(This regular work was the article on Contemporary Science, which in October 1854 he got Tyndall to share with him. For, he writes,] "To give some account of the books in one's own department is no particular trouble, and comes with me under the head of being paid for what I MUST, in any case, do—but I neither will, nor can, go on writing about books in other departments, of which I am not competent to form a judgment even if I had the time to give to them.") [And on December 7 he writes how he has been restored and revived by reading over her last two letters, and confesses,] "I have been unjust to the depth and strength of your devotion, but will never do so again." [Then he tells all he had gone through before leaving England in September for his holiday—how he had resolved to abandon all his special pursuits and take up Chemistry, for practical purposes, when first one publisher and then another asked him to write for them, and hopes were held out to him of being appointed to deliver the Fullerian lectures at the Royal Institution for the next three years; while, most important of all, Edward Forbes was likely before long, to leave his post at the Museum of Practical Geology, and he had already been spoken to by the authorities about filling it. This was worth some 200 pounds sterling a year, while he calculated to make about 250 pounds sterling by his pen alone.] "Therefore it would be absurd to go hunting for chemical birds in the bush when I have such in the hand."