Life and Letters of Thomas Henry Huxley Volume III Part 51

[Sketch of an active little black demon.]

T.H. Huxley.

[Though not so strikingly as before, the high Alpine air was again a wonderful tonic to him. His diary still contains a note of occasional long walks; and once more he was the centre of a circle of friends, whose cordial recollections of their pleasant intercourse afterwards found expression in a lasting memorial. Beside one of his favourite walks, a narrow pathway skirting the blue lakelet of Sils, was placed a gray block of granite. The face of this was roughly smoothed, and upon it was cut the following inscription:--

In memory of the ill.u.s.trious English Writer and Naturalist, Thomas Henry Huxley, who spent many summers at the Kursaal, Maloja.

In a letter to Sir J. Hooker, of October 1, he describes the effects of his trip, and his own surprise at being asked to write a critical account of Owen's work:--]

Hodeslea, Eastbourne, October 1, 1893.

My dear Hooker,

I am no better than a Gadarene swine for not writing to you from the Maloja, but I was too procrastinatingly lazy to expend even that amount of energy. I found I could walk as well as ever, but unless I was walking I was everlastingly seedy, and the wife was unwell almost all the time. I am inclined to think that it is coming home which is the most beneficial part of going abroad, for I am remarkably well now, and my wife is very much better.

I trust the impaled and injudicious Richard [Sir J. Hooker's youngest son, who had managed to spike himself on a fence.] is none the worse.

It is wonderful what boys go through (also what goes through them).

You will get all the volumes of my screeds. I was horrified to find what a lot of stuff there was--but don't acknowledge them unless the spirit moves you...I think that on Natural Inequality of Man will be to your taste.

Three, or thirty, guesses and you shall not guess what I am about to tell you.

Reverend Richard Owen has written to me to ask me to write a concluding chapter for the biography of his grandfather--containing a "critical"

estimate of him and his work!!! Says he is moved thereto by my speech at the meeting for a memorial.

There seemed nothing for me to do but to accept as far as the scientific work goes. I declined any personal estimate on the ground that we had met in private society half a dozen times.

If you don't mind being bothered I should like to send you what I write and have your opinion about it.

You see Jowett is going or gone. I am very sorry we were obliged to give up our annual visit to him this year. But I was quite unable to stand the exertion, even if Hames had not packed me off. How one's old friends are dropping!

Romanes gave me a pitiable account of himself in a letter the other day. He has had an attack of hemiplegic paralysis, and tells me he is a mere wreck. That means that the worst antic.i.p.ations of his case are being verified. It is lamentable.

Take care of yourself, my dear old friend, and with our love to you both, believe me, ever yours,

T.H. Huxley.

[Not long after his return he received a letter from a certain G-- S--, who wrote from Southampton detailing a number of observations he had made upon the organisms to be seen with a magnifying gla.s.s in an infusion of vegetable matter, and as "an ignoramus," apologised for any appearance of conceit in so doing, while asking his advice as to the best means of improving his scientific knowledge. Huxley was much struck by the tone of the letter and the description of the experiments, and he wrote back:--]

Hodeslea, November 9, 1893.

Sir,

We are all "ignoramuses" more or less--and cannot reproach one another.

If there were any sign of conceit in your letter, you would not get this reply.

On the contrary, it pleases me. Your observations are quite accurate and clearly described--and to be accurate in observation and clear in description is the first step towards good scientific work.

You are seeing just what the first workers with the microscope saw a couple of centuries ago.

Get some such book as Carpenter's "On the Microscope" and you will see what it all means.

Are there no science cla.s.ses in Southampton? There used to be, and I suppose is, a Hartley Inst.i.tute.

If you want to consult books you cannot otherwise obtain, take this to the librarian, give him my compliments, and say I should be very much obliged if he would help you.

I am, yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

[Great was Huxley's astonishment when he learned in reply that his correspondent was a casual dock labourer, and had but scanty hours of leisure in which to read and think and seek into the recesses of nature, while his means of observation consisted of a toy microscope bought for a s.h.i.+lling at a fair. Casting about for some means of lending the man a helping hand, he bethought him of the Science and Art Department, and wrote on December 30 to Sir J. Donnelly:--]

The Department has feelers all over England--has it any at Southampton?

And if it has, could it find out something about the writer of the letters I enclose? For a "casual docker" they are remarkable; and I think when you have read them you will not mind my bothering you with them. (I really have had the grace to hesitate.)

I have been puzzled what to do for the man. It is so much easier to do harm than good by meddling--and yet I don't like to leave him to "casual docking."

In that first letter he has got--on his own hook--about as far as Buffon and Needham 150 years ago.

And later to Professor Howes:--]

Hodeslea, Eastbourne, February 12, 1894.

My dear Howes,

Best thanks for unearthing the volumes of Milne-Edwards. I was afraid my set was spoiled.

I shall be still more obliged to you if you can hear of something for S--. There is a right good parson in his neighbourhood, and from what he tells me about S-- I am confirmed in my opinion that he is a very exceptional man, who ought to be at something better than porter's work for twelve hours a day.

The mischief is that one never knows how transplanting a tree, much less a man, will answer. Playing Providence is a game at which one is very apt to burn one's fingers.

However, I am going to try, and hope at any rate to do no harm to the man I want to help.

Ever yours very faithfully,

T.H. Huxley.

[He was eventually offered more congenial occupation at the Natural History Museum in South Kensington, but preferred not to enter into the bonds of an unaccustomed office.

Meanwhile, through Sir John Donnelly, Huxley was placed in communication with the Reverend Montague Powell, who, at his request, called upon the docker; and finding him a man who had read and thought to an astonis.h.i.+ng extent upon scientific problems, and had a considerable acquaintance with English literature, soon took more than a vicarious interest in him. Mr. Powell, who kept Huxley informed of his talks and correspondence with G.S., gives a full account of the circ.u.mstances in a letter to the "Spectator" of July 13, 1895, from which I quote the following words:--

The Professor's object in writing was to ask me how best such a man could be helped, I being at his special request the intermediary. So I suggested in the meanwhile a microscope and a few scientific books. In the course of a few days I received a splendid achromatic compound microscope and some books, which I duly handed over to my friend, telling him it was from an unknown hand. "Ah," he said, "I know who that must be; it can be no other than the greatest of living scientists; it is just like him to help a tyro."

One small incident of this affair is perhaps worth preserving as an example of Huxley's love of a bantering repartee. In the midst of the correspondence Mr. Powell seems suddenly to have been seized by an uneasy recollection that Huxley had lately received some honour or t.i.tle, so he next addressed him as "My dear Sir Thomas." The latter, not to be outdone, promptly replied with] "My dear Lord Bishop of the Solent."

[About the same time comes a letter to Mr. Knowles, based upon a paragraph from the gossiping column of some newspaper which had come into Huxley's hands:--]

Hodeslea, Eastbourne, November 9, 1893.