God bless you, dearest Lizzie. Write soon.
Ever your brother,
Tom.
[Thus within a month of landing in England, Huxley had secured his footing in the scientific world. He was freed for the time from the more irksome part of his profession; his service in the navy had become a stepping-stone to the pursuits in which his heart really was. He had long been half in despair over the work which he had sent out like the dove from the ark, if haply it might find him some standing ground in the world; no news of it had reached him till he was about to start on his homeward voyage, but he returned to discover that at a single stroke it had placed him in the front rank of naturalists.]
41 North Bank, Regent's Park.
January 3, 1851.
My progress [he writes (When not otherwise specified, the extracts in this chapter are from letters to his future wife.)], must necessarily be slow and uncertain. I cannot see two steps forwards. Much depends upon myself, much upon circumstances. Hitherto all has gone as well as I could wish. I have gained each object that I had set before myself—that is, I have my shore appointment, I have found a means of publishing what I have done creditably, and I have continued to come into communication with some of the first men in England in my department of science. But, as I have found to be the case in all things that are gained, from money to friendship, it is not so much getting as keeping. It is by no means difficult if you are decently introduced, have tolerably agreeable manners, and some smattering of science, to take a position among these folks, but it is a mighty different affair to keep it and turn it to account. Not like the man who, at the Enchanted Castle, had the courage to blow the horn but not to draw the sword, and was consequently shot forth from the mouth of the cave by which he entered with most ignominious haste,—one must be ready to fight immediately after one's arrival has been announced, or be blown into oblivion.
I HAVE drawn the sword, but whether I am in truth to beat the giants and deliver my princess from the enchanted castle is yet to be seen.
[For several months he lived with his brother George and his wife at
North Bank, St. John's Wood (the house was pulled down in 1896 for the
Great Central Railway), but the surroundings were too easy, and not
conducive to hard work.]
I must, I fear, emigrate to some "two pair back," which shall have the feel and manner of a workshop, where I can leave my books about and dissect a marine nastiness if I think fit, sallying forth to meet the world when necessary, and giving it no more time than necessary. If it were not for a fear that P. would take it unkindly I should go at once. I must summon up moral courage somehow (how difficult when it is to pain those we love!) and trust to her good sense for the rest.