CHAPTER 3.3.
1888.
[Huxley had returned to town before Christmas, for the house in St. John's Wood was still the rallying-point for the family, although his elder children were now married and dispersed. But he did not stay long.] "Wife wonderfully better," [he writes to Sir M. Foster on January 8,] "self as melancholy as a pelican in the wilderness." [He meant to have left London on the 16th, but his depressed condition proved to be the beginning of a second attack of pleurisy, and he was unable to start for Bournemouth till the 24th.
Here, however, his recovery was very slow. He was unable to come up to the first meeting of the x Club.] "I trust," [he writes,] "I shall be able to be at the next x—but I am getting on very slowly. I can't walk above a couple of miles without being exhausted, and talking for twenty minutes has the same effect. I suppose it is all Anno Domini."
[But he had a pleasant visit from one of the x, and writes:—]
Casalini, West Cliff, Bournemouth, January 29, 1888.
My dear Hooker,
Spencer was here an hour ago as lively as a cricket. He is going back to town on Tuesday to plunge into the dissipations of the Metropolis. I expect he will insist on you all going to Evans' (or whatever represents that place to our descendants) after the x.
Bellows very creaky—took me six weeks to get them mended last time, so
I suppose I may expect as long now.
Ever yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
[As appears from the letters which follow, he had been busied with writing an article for the "Nineteenth Century," for February, on the "Struggle for Existence" ("Collected Essays" 9 195.), which on the one hand ran counter to some of Mr. Herbert Spencer's theories of society; and on the other, is noticeable as briefly enunciating the main thesis of his "Romanes Lecture" of 1893.]
85 Marina, St. Leonards, December 13, 1887.
My dear Knowles,
I have to go to town to-morrow for a day, so that puts an end to the possibility of getting my screed ready for January. Altogether it will be better to let it stand over.
I do not know whence the copyright extract came, except that, as
Putnam's name was on the envelope, I suppose they sent it.
Pearsall Smith's practice is a wonderful commentary on his theory. Distribute the contents of the baker's shop gratis—it will give people a taste for bread!
Great is humbug, and it will prevail, unless the people who do not like it hit hard. The beast has no brains, but you can knock the heart out of him.
Ever yours very truly,
T.H. Huxley.
4 Marlborough Place, January 9, 1888.
My dear Donnelly,
Here is my proof. Will you mind running your eye over it?
The article is long, and partly for that reason and partly because the general public wants principles rather than details, I have condensed the practical half.
H. Spencer and "Jus" will be in a white rage with me.
Ever yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
[To Professor Frankland, February 6:—]
I am glad you like my article. There is no doubt it is rather like a tadpole, with a very big head and a rather thin tail. But the subject is a ticklish one to deal with, and I deliberately left a good deal suggested rather than expressed.
Casalini, West Cliff, Bournemouth, February 9, 1888.
My dear Donnelly,
No! I don't think softening has begun yet—vide "Nature" this week. ["Nature" 37 337 for February 9, 1888: review of his article in the "Nineteenth Century" on the "Industrial Struggle for Existence.">[ I am glad you found the article worth a second go. I took a vast of trouble (as the country folks say) about it. I am afraid it has made Spencer very angry—but he knows I think he has been doing mischief this long time.
Bellows to mend! Bellows to mend! I am getting very tired of it. If I walk two or three miles, however slowly, I am regularly done for at the end of it. I expect there has been more mischief than I thought for.
How about the Bill?
Ever yours,
T.H. Huxley.
[However, he and Mr. Spencer wrote their minds to each other on the subject, and as Huxley remarks with reference to this occasion,] "the process does us both good, and in no way interferes with our friendship."
[The letter immediately following, to Mr. Romanes, answers an inquiry about a passage quoted from Huxley's writings by Professor Schurman in his "Ethical Import of Darwinism." This passage, made up of sentences from two different essays, runs as follows:—]
It is quite conceivable that every species tends to produce varieties of a limited number and kind, and that the effect of natural selection is to favour the development of some of these, while it opposes the development of others along their predetermined line of modification. ("Collected Essays" 2 223.) A whale does not tend to vary in the direction of producing feathers, nor a bird in the direction of producing whalebone. (In "Mr. Darwin's Critics" 1871 "Collected Essays" 2 181.)
"On the strength of these extracts" (writes Mr. Romanes), "Schurman represents you 'to presuppose design, since development takes place along certain predetermined lines of modification.' But as he does not give references, and as I do not remember the passages, I cannot consult the context, which I fancy must give a different colouring to the extracts."
4 Marlborough Place, January 5, 1888.
My dear Romanes,
They say that liars ought to have long memories. I am sure authors ought to. I could not at first remember where the passage Schurman quotes occurs, but I did find it in the Encyclopaedia Britannica article on "Evolution" ["Collected Essays" 2 223.], reprinted in "Science and Culture," page 307.
But I do not find anything about the "whale" here. Nevertheless I have a consciousness of having said something of the kind somewhere. [In "Mr. Darwin's Critics" 1871 "Collected Essays" 2 181.]
If you look at the whole passage, you will see that there is not the least intention on my part to presuppose design.
If you break a piece of Iceland spar with a hammer, all the pieces will have shapes of a certain kind, but that does not imply that the Iceland spar was constructed for the purpose of breaking up in this way when struck. The atomic theory implies that of all possible compounds of A and B only those will actually exist in which the proportions of A and B by weight bear a certain numerical ratio. But it is mere arguing in a circle to say that the fact being so is evidence that it was designed to be so.
I am not going to take any more notice of the everlasting D—, as you appropriately call him, until he has withdrawn his slanders….
Pray give him a dressing—it will be one of those rare combinations of duty and pleasure.
Ever yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
[He was, moreover, constantly interested in schemes for the reform of the scientific work of the London University, and for the enlargement of the scope and usefulness of the Royal Society. As for the latter, a proposal had been made for federation with colonial scientific societies, which was opposed by some of his friends in the x Club; and he writes to Sir E. Frankland on February 3:—]
I am very sorry you are all against Evans' scheme. I am for it. I think it a very good proposal, and after all the talk, I do not want to see the Society look foolish by doing nothing.
You are a lot of obstructive old Tories, and want routing out. If I were only younger and less indisposed to any sort of exertion, I would rout you out finely!
[With respect to the former, it had been proposed that medical degrees should be conferred, not by the university, but by a union of the several colleges concerned. He writes:—]
4 Marlborough Place, January 11, 1888.
My dear Foster,
I send back the "Heathen Deutscheree's" (whose ways are dark) letter lest I forget it to-morrow.
Meanwhile perpend these two things:—
1. United Colleges propose to give just as good an examination and require as much qualification as the Scotch Universities. Why then give their degree a distinguishing mark?
2. "Academical distinctions" in medicine are all humbug. You are making a medical technical school at Cambridge—and quite right too. The United Colleges, if they do their business properly, will confer just as much, or as little "academical distinction" as Cambridge by their degree.
3. The Fellowship of the College of Surgeons is in every sense as much an "academical distinction" as the Masterships in Surgery or Doctorate of Medicine of the Scotch and English Universities.
4. You may as well cry for the moon as ask my colleagues in the Senate to meddle seriously with the Matriculation. They are possessed by the devil that cries continually, "There is only the Liberal education, and Greek and Latin are his prophets."
[At Bournemouth he also applied himself to writing the Darwin obituary notice for the Royal Society, a labour of love which he had long felt unequal to undertaking. The manuscript was finally sent off to the printer's on April 6, unlike the still longer unfinished memoir on Spirula, to which allusion is made here, among other business of the "Challenger" Committee, of which he was a member.
On February 12 he writes to Sir J. Evans:—]
Spirula is a horrid burden on my conscience—but nobody could make head or tail of the business but myself.
That and Darwin's obituary are the chief subjects of my meditations when I wake in the night. But I do not get much "forrarder," and I am afraid I shall not until I get back to London.
Bournemouth, February 14, 1888.
My dear Foster,
No doubt the Treasury will jump at any proposition which relieves them from further expense—but I cannot say I like the notion of leaving some of the most important results of the "Challenger" voyage to be published elsewhere than in the official record….
Evans made a deft allusion to Spirula, like a powder between two dabs of jam. At present I have no moral sense, but it may awake as the days get longer.
I have been reading the "Origin" slowly again for the nth time, with the view of picking out the essentials of the argument, for the obituary notice. Nothing entertains me more than to hear people call it easy reading.
Exposition was not Darwin's forte—and his English is sometimes wonderful. But there is a marvellous dumb sagacity about him—like that of a sort of miraculous dog—and he gets to the truth by ways as dark as those of the Heathen Chinee.
I am getting quite sick of all the "paper philosophers," as old Galileo called them, who are trying to stand upon Darwin's shoulders and look bigger than he, when in point of real knowledge they are not fit to black his shoes. It is just as well I am collapsed or I believe I should break out with a final "Fur Darwin."
I will think of you when I get as far as the fossils. At present I am poking over P. sylvestris and P. pinnata in the intervals of weariness.
My wife joins with me in love to you both.
Ever yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
Snow and cold winds here. Hope you are as badly off at Cambridge.
Bournemouth, February 21, 1888.
My dear Foster,
We have had nothing but frost and snow here lately, and at present half a gale of the bitterest north-easter I have felt since we were at Florence is raging. [Similarly to Sir J. Evans on the 28th]—"I get my strength back but slowly, and think of migrating to Greenland or Spitzbergen for a milder climate.">[
I believe I am getting better, as I have noticed that at a particular stage of my convalescence from any sort of illness I pass through a condition in which things in general appear damnable and I myself an entire failure. If that is a sign of returning health you may look upon my restoration as certain.
If it is only Murray's speculations he wants to publish separately, I should say by all means let him. But the facts, whether advanced by him or other people, ought all to be in the official record. I agree we can't stir.
I scented the "goak." How confoundedly proud you are of it. In former days I have been known to joke myself.
I will look after the questions if you like. In my present state of mind I shall be a capital critic—on Dizzy's views of critics…
Ever yours,
T.H. Huxley.
[This year Huxley was appointed a Trustee of the British Museum, an office which he had held ex officio from 1883 to 1885, as President of the Royal Society.
This is referred to in the following letter of March 9:—]
My dear Hooker,
Having nothing to do plays the devil with doing anything, and I suppose that is why I have been so long about answering your letter.
There is nothing the matter with me now except want of strength. I am tired out with a three-mile walk, and my voice goes if I talk for any time. I do not suppose I shall do much good till I get into high and dry air, and it is too early for Switzerland yet….
You see I was honoured and gloried by a trusteeship of the British Museum. [Replying on the 2nd to Sir John Evans' congratulations, he says:—"It is some months since Lord Salisbury made the proposal to me, and I was beginning to wonder what had happened—whether Cantaur had put his foot down for example, and objected to bad company.">[ These things, I suppose, normally come when one is worn-out. When Lowe was Chancellor of the Exchequer I had a long talk with him about the affairs of the Natural History Museum, and I told him that he had better put Flower at the head of it and make me a trustee to back him. Bobby no doubt thought the suggestion cheeky, but it is odd that the thing has come about now that I don't care for it, and desire nothing better than to be out of every description of bother and responsibility.
Have not Lady Hooker and you yet learned that a large country house is of all places the most detestable in cold weather? The neuralgia was a mild and kindly hint of Providence not to do it again, but I am rejoiced it has vanished.
Pronouns got mixed somehow.
With our kindest regards.
Ever yours,
T.H. Huxley.
More last words:—What little faculty I have has been bestowed on the obituary of Darwin for Royal Society lately. I have been trying to make it an account of his intellectual progress, and I hope it will have some interest. Among other things I have been trying to set out the argument of the "Origin of Species," and reading the book for the nth time for that purpose. It is one of the hardest books to understand thoroughly that I know of, and I suppose that is the reason why even people like Romanes get so hopelessly wrong.
If you don't mind, I should be glad if you would run your eye over the thing when I get as far as the proof stage—Lord knows when that will be.
[A few days later he wrote again on the same subject, after reading the obituary of Asa Gray, the first American supporter of Darwin's theory.]
March 23, 1888.
I suppose Dana has sent you his obituary of Asa Gray.
The most curious feature I note in it is that neither of them seems to have mastered the principles of Darwin's theory. See the bottom of page 19 and the top of page 20. As I understand Darwin there is nothing "Anti-Darwinian" in either of the two doctrines mentioned.
Darwin has left the causes of variation and the question whether it is limited or directed by external conditions perfectly open.
The only serious work I have been attempting lately is Darwin's obituary. I do a little every day, but get on very slowly. I have read the life and letters all through again, and the "Origin" for the sixth or seventh time, becoming confirmed in my opinion that it is one of the most difficult books to exhaust that ever was written.
I have a notion of writing out the argument of the "Origin" in systematic shape as a sort of primer of Darwinismus. I have not much stuff left in me, and it would be as good a way of using what there is as I know of. What do you think?
Ever yours,
T.H. Huxley.
[In reply to this Sir J. Hooker was inclined to make the biographer alone responsible for the confusion noted in the obituary of Asa Gray. He writes:—
March 27, 1888.
Dear Huxley,
Dana's Gray arrived yesterday, and I turned to pages 19 and 20. I see nothing Anti-Darwinian in the passages, and I do not gather from them that Gray did.
I did not follow Gray into his later comments on Darwinism, and I never read his "Darwiniana." My recollection of his attitude after acceptance of the doctrine, and during the first few years of his active promulgation of it, is that he understood it clearly, but sought to harmonise it with his prepossessions, without disturbing its physical principles in any way.
He certainly showed far more knowledge and appreciation of the contents of the "Origin" than any of the reviewers and than any of the commentators, yourself excepted.
Latterly he got deeper and deeper into theological and metaphysical wanderings, and finally formulated his ideas in an illogical fashion.
…Be all this as it may, Dana seems to be in a muddle on page 20, and quite a self-sought one.
Ever yours,
J.D. Hooker.
The following is a letter of thanks to Mrs. Humphry Ward for her novel
"Robert Elsmere.">[
Bournemouth, March 15, 1888.
My dear Mrs. Ward,
My wife thanked you for your book which you were so kind as to send us. But that was grace before meat, which lacks the "physical basis" of after-thanksgiving—and I am going to supplement it, after my most excellent repast.
I am not going to praise the charming style, because that was in the blood and you deserve no sort of credit for it. Besides, I should be stepping beyond my last. But as an observer of the human ant-hill—quite impartial by this time—I think your picture of one of the deeper aspects of our troubled time admirable.
You are very hard on the philosophers. I do not know whether Langham or the Squire is the more unpleasant—but I have a great deal of sympathy with the latter, so I hope he is not the worst.
If I may say so, I think the picture of Catherine is the gem of the book. She reminds me of her namesake of Siena—and would as little have failed in any duty, however gruesome. You remember Sodoma's picture.
Once more, many thanks for a great pleasure.
My wife sends her love.
Ever yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
[Meanwhile, he had been making no progress towards health; indeed, was going slowly downhill. He makes fun of his condition when writing to condole with Mr. Spencer on falling ill again after the unwonted spell of activity already mentioned; but a few weeks later discovered the cause of his weakness and depression in an affection of the heart. This was not immediately dangerous, though he looked a complete wreck. His letters from April onwards show how he was forced to give up almost every form of occupation, and even to postpone his visit to Switzerland, until he had been patched up enough to bear the journey.]
Casalini, West Cliff, Bournemouth, March 9, 1888.
My dear Spencer,
I am very sorry to hear from Hooker that you have been unwell again. You see if young men from the country will go plunging into the dissipations of the metropolis nemesis follows.
Until two days ago, the weather cocks never overstepped North on the one side and East on the other ever since you left. Then they went west with sunshine and most enjoyable softness—but next South with a gale and rain—all ablowin' and agrowin' at this present.
I have nothing to complain of so long as I do nothing; but although my hair has grown with its usual rapidity I differ from Samson in the absence of a concurrent return of strength. Perhaps that is because a male hairdresser, and no Delilah, cut it last! But I waste Biblical allusions upon you.
My wife and Nettie, who is on a visit, join with me in best wishes.
Please let me have a line to say how you are—Gladstonianly on a post-card.
Ever yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
Bournemouth, April 7, 1888.
My dear Foster,
"Let thy servant's face be white before thee." The obituary of Darwin went to Rix yesterday! [Assistant Secretary of the Royal Society.] It is not for lack of painstaking if it is not worth much, but I have been in a bad vein for work of any kind, and I thought I should never get even this simple matter ended.
I have been bothered with praecordial uneasiness and intermittent pulse ever since I have been here, and at last I got tired of it and went home the day before yesterday to get carefully overhauled. Hames tells me there is weakness and some enlargement of the left ventricle, which is pretty much what I expected. Luckily the valves are all right.
I am to go and devote myself to coaxing the left ventricle wall to thicken pro rata—among the mountains, and to have nothing to do with any public functions or other exciting bedevilments. So the International Geological Congress will not have the pleasure of seeing its Honorary President in September. I am disgusted at having to break an engagement, but I cannot deny that Hames is right. At present the mere notion of the thing puts me in a funk.
I wish I could get out of the chair of the M.B.A. Also…I know that you and Evans and Dyer will do your best, but you are all eaten up with other occupations.
Just turn it over in your mind—there's a dear good fellow—just as if you hadn't any other occupations.
With which eminently reasonable and unselfish request believe me,
Ever yours,
T.H. Huxley.
Bournemouth, April 10, 1888.
My dear Foster,
I send by this post the last—I hope for your sake and for that of the recording angel—of —. [The "Heathen Deutscheree". A paper of his, contributed to the Royal Society, had been under revision.] I agree to all Brady's suggestions.
With all our tinkering I feel inclined to wind up the affair after the manner of Mr. Shandy's summing up of the discussion about Tristram's breeches—"And when he has got 'em he'll look a beast in 'em."
Ever yours,
T.H. Huxley.
[April 12. To the same:—]
I am quite willing to remain at the M.B.A. till the opening. If Evans will be President I shall be happy.
— is a very good man, but you must not expect too much of the "wild-cat" element, which is so useful in the world, in him.
I am disgusted with myself for letting everything go by the run, but there is no help for it. The least thing bowls me over just now.
Casalini, West Cliff, Bournemouth, April 12, 1888.
My dear Hooker,
I plead not guilty. [In the matter of sending out no notices for a meeting of the x Club.] It was agreed at the last meeting that there should be none in April—I suppose by reason of Easter, so I sent no notice. This is what Frankland told me in his letter of the 2nd. However, I see you were present, so I can't make it out.
My continual absence makes me a shocking bad Treasurer, and I am sorry to say that things will be worse instead of better. Ever since this last pleuritic business I have been troubled with praecordial uneasiness. [After an account of his symptoms he continues] so I am off (with my wife) to Switzerland at the end of this month, and shall be away all the summer. We have not seen the Engadine and Tyrol yet, so we shall probably make a long circuit. It is a horrid nuisance to be exiled in this fashion. I have hardly been at home one month in the last ten. But it is of no use to growl.
Under these circumstances, would you mind looking after the x while I am away? There is nothing to do but to send the notices on Saturday previous to the meeting.
I am very grieved to hear about Hirst—though to say truth, the way he has held out for so long has been a marvel to me. The last news I had of Spencer was not satisfactory.
Eheu! the "Table Round" is breaking up. It's a great pity; we were such pleasant fellows, weren't we?
Ever yours,
T.H. Huxley.
Casalini, West Cliff, Bournemouth, April 18, 1888.
My dear Foster,
I am cheered by your liking of the notice of Darwin. I read the "Life and Letters," and the "Origin," Krause's "Life," and some other things over again in order to do it. But I have not much go in me, and I was a scandalous long time pottering over the writing.
I have sent the proof back with a variety of interpolations. I would have brought the "Spirula" notes down here to see what I could do, but I felt pretty sure that if I brought two things I should not do one. Nobody could do anything with it but myself. I will try what I can do when I go to town. How much time is there before the wind-up of the Challenger?
We go up to town Monday next, and I am thinking of being off the Monday following (April 30). I have come to the same conclusion as yourself, that Glion would be better than Grindelwald. I should like very much to see you. Just drop me a line to say when you are likely to turn up.
Poor Arnold's death has been a great shock [Matthew Arnold died suddenly of heart disease at Liverpool, where he had gone to meet his daughter on her return from America.]—rather for his wife than himself—I mean on her account than his. I have always thought sudden death to be the best of all for oneself, but under such circumstances it is terrible for those who are left. Arnold told me years ago that he had heart disease. I do not suppose there is any likelihood of an immediate catastrophe in my own case. I should not go abroad if there were. Imagine the horror of leaving one's wife to fight all the difficulties of sudden euthanasia in a Swiss hotel! I saw enough of that two years ago at Arolla.
Ever yours,
T.H. Huxley.
4 Marlborough Place, April 25, 1888.
My dear Hooker,
All my beautiful Swiss plans are knocked on the head—at any rate for the present—in favour of horizontality and Digitalis here. The journey up on Monday demonstrated that travelling, at present, was impracticable.
Hames is sanguine I shall get right with rest, and I am quite satisfied with his opinion, but for the sake of my belongings he thinks it right to have Clark's opinion to fortify him.
It is a bore to be converted into a troublesome invalid even for a few weeks, but I comfort myself with my usual reflection on the chances of life, "Lucky it is no worse." Any impatience would have been checked by what I heard about Moseley this morning—that he has sunk into hopeless idiocy. A man in the prime of life!
Ever yours,
T.H. Huxley.
4 Marlborough Place, May 4, 1888.
My dear Hooker,
Best thanks for your note and queries.
I remember hearing what you say about Darwin's father long ago, I am not sure from what source. But if you look at page 20 of the "Life and Letters" you will see that Darwin himself says his father's mind "was not scientific." I have altered the passage so as to use these exact words.
I used "malice" rather in the French sense, which is more innocent than ours, but "irony" would be better if "malice" in any way suggests malignity. "Chaff" is unfortunately beneath the dignity of a Royal Society obituary.
I am going to add a short note about Erasmus Darwin's views.
It is a great comfort to me that you like the thing. I am getting nervous over possible senility—63 to-day, and nothing of your evergreen ways about me.
I am decidedly mending, chiefly to all appearance by allowing myself to be stuffed with meat and drink like a Strasburg goose. I am also very much afraid that abolishing tobacco has had something to do with my amendment.
But I am mindful of your maxim—keep a tight hold over your doctor.
Ever yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
P.S. 1.—Can't say I have sacrificed anything to penmanship, and am not at all sure about lucidity!
P.S. 2.—It is "Friday"—there is a dot over the i—reopened my letter to crow!
[The following letter to Mr. Spencer is in answer to a note of condolence on his illness, in which the following passage occurs:—]
I was grieved to hear of so serious an evil as that which [Hirst] named. It is very depressing to find one's friends as well as one's self passing more and more into invalid life.
Well, we always have one consolation, such as it is, that we have made our lives of some service in the world, and that, in fact, we are suffering from doing too much for our fellows. Such thoughts do not go far in the way of mitigation, but they are better than nothing.
4 Marlborough Place, May 8, 1888.
My dear Spencer,
I have been on the point of writing to you, but put it off for lack of anything cheerful to say.
After I had recovered from my pleurisy, I could not think why my strength did not come back. It turns out that there is some weakness and dilatation of the heart, but lucky no valvular mischief. I am condemned to the life of a prize pig—physical and mental idleness, and corporeal stuffing with meat and drink, and I am certainly improving under the regimen.
I am told I have a fair chance of getting all right again. But I take it as a pretty broad hint to be quiet for the rest of my days. At present I have to be very quiet, and I spend most of my time on my back.
You and I, my dear friend, have had our innings, and carry our bats out while our side is winning. One could not reasonably ask for more. And considering the infinite possibilities of physical and moral suffering which beset us, I, for my part, am well pleased that things are no worse.
Ever yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
4 Marlborough Place, N.W., June 1, 1888.
My dear Knowles,
I have been living the life of a prize pig for the last six weeks—no exercise, much meat and drink, and as few manifestations of intelligence as possible, for the purpose of persuading my heart to return to its duty.
I am astonished to find that there is a kick left in me—even when your friend Kropotkin pitches into me without the smallest justification. Vide 19, June, page 820.
Just look at 19, February, page 168. I say, "AT THE PRESENT TIME, the produce of the soil does not suffice," etc.
I did not say a word about the capabilities of the soil if, as part and parcel of a political and social revolution on the grandest scale, we all took to spade husbandry.
As a matter of fact, I did try to find out a year or two ago, whether the soil of these islands could, under any circumstances, feed its present population with wheat. I could not get any definite information, but I understood Caird to think that it could.
In my argument, however, the question is of no moment. There must be some limit to the production of food by a given area, and there is none to population.
What a stimulus vanity is!—nothing but the vain dislike of being thought in the wrong would have induced me to trouble myself or bore you with this letter. Bother Kropotkin!
I think his article very interesting and important nevertheless.
I am getting better but very slowly.
Ever yours very truly,
T.H. Huxley.
[In reply, Mr. Knowles begged him to come to lunch and a quiet talk, and further suggested, "as an ENTIRELY UNBIASSED person," that he ought to answer Kropotkin's errors in the "Nineteenth Century," and not only in a private letter behind his back.
The answer is as follows:—]
4 Marlborough Place, June 3, 1888.
My dear Knowles,
Your invitation is tantalising. I wish I could accept it. But it is now some six weeks that my excursions have been limited to a daily drive. The rest of my time I spend on the flat of my back, eating, drinking, and doing absolutely nothing besides, except taking iron and digitalis.
I meant to have gone abroad a month ago, but it turned out that my heart was out of order, and though I am getting better, progress is slow, and I do not suppose I shall get away for some weeks yet.
I have neither brains nor nerves, and the very thought of controversy puts me in a blue funk!
My doctors prophesy good things, as there is no valvular disease, only dilatation. But for the present I must subscribe myself (from an editorial point of view).
Your worthless and useless and bad-hearted friend,
T.H. Huxley.
[The British Association was to meet at Plymouth this year; and Mr. W.F. Collier (an uncle of John Collier, his son-in-law) invited Huxley and any friend of his to be his guest at Horrabridge.]
4 Marlborough Place, June 13, 1888.
My dear Mr. Collier,
It would have been a great pleasure to me to be your guest once more, but the Fates won't have it this time.
Dame Nature has given me a broad hint that I have had my innings, and, for the rest of my time, must be content to look on at the players.
It is not given to all of us to defy the doctors and go in for a new lease, as I am glad to hear you are doing. I declare that your open invitation to any friend of mine is the most touching mark of confidence I ever received. I am going to send it to my great ally Michael Foster, Secretary of the Royal Society. I do not know whether he has made any other arrangements, and I am not quite sure whether he and his wife are going to Plymouth. But I hope they may be able to accept, for you will certainly like them, and they will certainly like you. I will ask him to write directly to you to save time.
With very kind remembrances to Mrs. Collier.
Ever yours very faithfully,
T.H. Huxley.
I forgot to say that I am mending as fast as I can expect to do.